The Demons of 186
by homesweethomicide13
Summary: The Deltora gang are snatched from their world and planted inside the bodies of those involved with Sweeney Todd. They must live out the legend of Sweeney Todd, with alterations. But one finds himself unable to distinguish himself from Mr Todd...
1. Prologue

**Title:** The Demons of 186  
**Author:** homesweethomicide13  
**Rating:** T for now, will change to M when the blood starts spurting.  
**Pairing:** It follows the tale of Sweeney Todd, so you figure it out.  
**Warnings:** Blood, death, the usual things involved with Mr Todd.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Deltora Quest, nor do I own Sweeney Todd. Unfortunately.  
**Summary:** The Deltora gang are snatched from their world and planted inside the bodies of those involved with Sweeney Todd. They must live out the legend of Sweeney Todd, with alterations. But one finds himself unable to distinguish himself from Mr Todd...

**The Demons of 186**

**Book 1: The Demons Awaken**

**Prologue**

The building was old, the windows grey and filthy. The place looked like it was going to fall apart any moment now. There was faded gold lettering above the door, peeling and chipped, but still somewhat readable.

_Mrs Lovett's Meat Pies_.

On a pane of glass directly above what could easily be the main entrance, three gold letters still remained, telling the world that this building was number 186. Not far from the corner on which the place stood, a street sign was poised in the air, hanging from a thin metal pole. Swinging in the light breeze, the words Fleet Street glared down at the miscreants that dawdled around on the walkways. 

If one were to push open those main doors and walk into the shop beyond, the room would appear dusty, dirty and deserted. Spiders had collected in every corner, and all manner of insects crawled around on the floor and surfaces. A cracked plate remained on a table beside a tin tankard. Crumbs, stale and mouldy, stuck to the plate like lichens. Something what could have once been ale was glued to the bottom of the tankard, which was starting to rust. 

Walking past these objects, one would find themselves facing an open hallway into another room, furnished with hideous chairs and singed wallpaper. A book remained on one chair, a slip of paper marking the page the reader had stopped at. Another door led to a small bedroom, and if one were to enter, they would see an unusual sight upon the bed: a woman, face pale and gaunt, eyes closed seemingly forever, lay upon the dirty sheets in a tattered black and white corset-dress. 

But if one were to walk back into the shop once more, and out through a side entrance, one would find a flight of stairs. And if one were to walk up the rotting wooden steps – carefully, mind – one would find a door at the very top. Through the door was the upper level of the building, quite a small-sized room with a slanting roof and a huge window mounted into the slant. A broken mirror sat in one corner, and at the opposite end was a small cabinet that was home to a vanity mirror and various objects. But it was the scene in the middle of the room that would have brought fear and wonder into any who saw it.

A mad contraption of a chair sat amid a wash of blood, though strangely enough, a section behind the chair was clean of the red stains, though they circled around it. Though the chair itself was daunting, it was the man sprawled – lifeless, perhaps – upon it. He had dark, unruly hair, with a dashing white streak. He was dressed in a dirty white shirt and brown vest, with black and white pinstripe trousers. His boots were settled nicely against the crimson floor. His head was lowered to his chest, hiding most of his face. 

But no one saw these strange sights, for no one dared enter the building below, or above. In fact, people crossed the street to avoid even walking past that cursed place. It was common knowledge, and still not a thing of the past, that dreadful things had happened there.

The demonic tale of Sweeney Todd and the devil baker Mrs Lovett was still fresh in the Londoners minds. It had been but a year since gentlemen had had their throats sliced open by the demon barber. It had been but a year since those gentlemen had been cut up and ground into meat pies.

It had been but a year since the remains of both barber and baker had been found in their dreadful bake house. 

Sweeney Todd was dead, killed in the same method he had used to slaughter Mrs Lovett's 'meat'. The baker herself was burnt alive in her own oven. Many thought there was much justice in this. All were grateful that these demons were gone from their town.

How they would scream in terror to learn that those demons had returned.

_Darkness. Endless, thick darkness. Cold._

_What is this place? Where am I? Why am I here? Why is it that I cannot see or hear, or even speak? Why does the stink of death hang around this place?_

_A light, in the distance, growing larger as it nears. Blinding light._

"Mm…" A pale-faced man stirred, eyebrows tautening into a frown. He lifted his head and licked dry lips before opening clouded eyes. He lifted a hand to wipe at his eyes in order to clear them, and he felt rough material brush cold skin. Confused, he looked intently at his hand, wondering when and why he had put tattered fingerless gloves on his hands. Now that he thought about it, he was sitting upright, and he was uncomfortable. He shifted his body and his legs clanged against a firm, metal grate.

With cleared eyes, the man looked around him and shock crossed his face. This was not where he had lay down to rest. He was sat in a chair padded with crimson cushion, and spattered with a sticky substance that left dark brown marks on his skin. He moved his legs and found them to be encased in tight black trousers with tiny white stripes running their length. Heavy boots clunked upon the wooden floor. 

The room was completely different to his bedroom – for starters, the roof was slanted, and beside him was the largest window he'd ever seen. In front of him, in a corner, was a shattered mirror. It was when he glanced at this mirror that something caught his eye. Standing up and ignoring his strange new attire, he strode to the mirror and stared into it. The man staring back was not what he was used to seeing.

The face was the same, as were the colour of his eyes, but there was a darkness in those eyes that he did not recognize. His skin was three shades lighter than normal, and he had dark shadows beneath his eyes. His hair was still unruly and raven black, but now he had a snowy streak gracing a spot above his left fringe. He was thinner, too. He'd lost his obvious strength from his shoulders and arms. He felt weak in such a slight frame. 

_**Never say weak again whilst referring to my body.**_

He jumped a mile in the air at the cold voice. He looked around for its source, though he knew he would find no one. The voice hadn't come from a specific place. It had come from everywhere.

"Who are you?" He didn't know if he would get a response, or if he was just crazy, but it was worth a shot.

_**I could ask you the same question.**_

"If you don't know who I am, then you won't know why I'm here?" He had a ton of questions, and if this disembodied voice didn't have the answers, no one would.

_**Oh no, I know **_**why**_** you're here.**_

"You do? Please, enlighten me."

_**Not so fast. I want to know who you are first.**_

The man rolled his eyes, although he wasn't sure if the owner of the voice could see him or not.

"My name is Barda. But it is a common courtesy to give one's name before asking another's." The man replied, raising an eyebrow and putting one hand on his hip – ignoring how feminine it felt.

_**Maybe where you come from it is. But this is London, Barda. Courtesy is a rare thing in this area.**_

"London?" Barda had never heard of the place before. "Where the hell am I?" He could hear the voice sigh heavily.

_**London. It's a large town in England. Heard of that?**_

"Another island?" Barda questioned. It was strange, since he and his companions had destroyed the evil in Deltora, travellers had gone to explore the islands around its coasts, but he had never heard of a place called England before.

_**Oh I have so much work to do… Listen, Barda. I'll explain everything to you later, but you are here for a reason.**_

"Oh? Care to tell me that reason, Mr disembodied voice?"

_**Ha-ha. Looks like I got myself a funny guy. Now shut up and listen. Sixteen years ago, I was wronged by a Judge. He stole me from my family and tore us apart. Whilst I was slaving away in a prison for the rest of my life, he raped my wife and drove her to suicide, and then locked my daughter away. I escaped the prison after fifteen years, and returned here, hoping to find my wife and child waiting for me.**_

_**I did not find them waiting at all. I found out – from a woman I still loathe with all I have – that my wife has poisoned herself in an attempt to take her own life. My pretty daughter had been taken by the very Judge who sent me away, and he kept her in his home, isolated. **_

_**I was furious. With the help of that wretched woman, I started preparing myself for my revenge upon that Judge. You see, I am – was – a barber. A skilled barber, too. I was going to get the Judge to sit in that very chair you woke up in, and I was going to kill him with my beautiful razors. **_

_**Don't speak. Listen. He escaped my clutches the first time, and so I killed anyone who walked into my shop – providing they would not be missed. The bodies were then ground up into the meat pies that were sold downstairs. Hah. You look sickened. Trust me, it was all **_**her**_** idea. Still, I wasn't going to complain. I finally managed to kill the Judge. It's his blood that coats everything in this room. It's his blood that has caked itself onto your arms. **_

_**I suppose you want to know where I'm going with this. Well, I may have exacted my revenge, but shortly after, I was killed. I don't know what you believe in, but there certainly isn't Heaven or Hell where I am. Anyway, there's been some disturbance in the balance here. Somehow, a man has found his way to this time, and has seemingly reformed himself into that accursed Judge.**_

_**Naturally, I found out how this had happened and I copied the act, and hence you are here. If that Judge has returned, he will have found a way to get to me. You are to take my place. It seems as though my story is happening all over again. This time, we cannot allow anything to go wrong. Hence why I am still here. Unfortunately, that cursed woman will be back, too. You will live my story, but we will alter it to make it right. The way it **_**should**_** have been.**_

Barda, who had been silent for the whole story, finally spoke up.

"You mean, I'm to live your life? But… how? I mean… I'm not a barber! I know little of what happened to you, or anyone else involved. And I'm certainly not a killer!"

_**Don't be stupid. It will be me doing the killing. You will have my skills as a barber, although there won't be much shaving going on. You don't have a choice, either. You were the one who was chosen, and you cannot go back until things have been restored to the way they were. The Judge is supposed to be dead. Until he well and truly is, you cannot return to wherever you came from.**_

"But I have my own family to think of!" Barda protested. His mind wandered to his wife and children at home. Had he simply disappeared? Were they out looking for him, fearing the worst?

_**Then you had better get started quickly. The saying goes, the faster you start, the faster you finish. Go over to the vanity mirror. In front of it there should be a small wooden box. Open it.**_

Barda did as instructed, and found the wooden box. It was beautifully carved, though he doubted that the disembodied voice wanted him to admire the box. He opened it carefully and saw that several gleaming silver objects lay inside.

_**Pick one up.**_

He did so, turning it over in his hands. He recognized silver when he saw it. The intricate carving in the handle was beautiful, too. Without any further instructions from the voice, his fingers found a sliver that moved, and he swung it open, revealing a wickedly sharp straight razor.

_**That's it… admire them. From this moment, they are your friends.**_

Barda turned the blade so it reflected what little light came through the window. As he stared at the razor, a dark smile crossed his face.

"These are my friends…" He murmured. He picked up another, and with a slick grace that couldn't possibly be his own skill, the blade swung out and clicked into place perfectly. "…See how they glisten…" Though Barda couldn't see the barber who owned the voice, he could _feel_ his daunting happiness as he murmured the lines of a song he'd never heard before. 

_**See this one shine… how he smiles in the light…**_

"My friend… my faithful friend…" Barda turned and strode to the window, looking out over the streets of this place called London. It was a grey and dismal place, with ragged, dirty people littering the streets. Once more, words came to him instantly, though he'd never heard them. "There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and the vermin of the world inhabit it and its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit and it goes by the name of London."

_**No place like London, aye?**_

"At the top of the hole sit a privileged few, making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo, turning beauty into filth and greed…"

_**I too have sailed the world and seen its wonders**_

"For the cruelty of men is as wondrous as Peru…"

_**But there's no place like…**_

"…London." Barda turned to look at the chair he'd woken up in.

_**You will not call yourself my full name, not until the opportune moment.**_

"Then, do tell me… what am I to be called?"

_**You will use Barda as your surname. For the name before it, you will use mine.**_

"So, what title does this demon go by?" Already Barda could feel a change within him. He glanced into the vanity mirror, and for the first time saw the owner of the voice. It was like looking at a twin, with a slight facial difference, and the eyes were a dark brown. But the clothes and the hair were practically identical. A dark smirk crossed the other's face.

_**Sweeney. For I am Sweeney Todd.**_

* * *

_Author's Note: How do you like it so far? The idea came to me at the strangest of moments, but I have a lot planned for this story. Lots of twists and things. Make sure to tell me your thoughts on it, so I know I should keep posting! Just as a side note, although the characters are following the legend of Sweeney Todd, the story will not be exactly the same. As I said, lots of twists. - homesweethomicide13_


	2. Chapter 1: Down Below

Just a note:  
_**This is Sweeney Todd talking.  
**This is Mrs Lovett talking._

**Chapter 1: Down Below**

Barda relaxed in the chair, ignoring the grimy mess of blood. He'd have to clean it before he started 'business'. He had one of those beautiful razors in his hand, admiring it from all directions. He knew why Mr Todd had adored these blades so much.

"Speak to me friend…" He murmured. "Whisper… I'll listen…" He had a faint idea that Mr Todd had once sung these words to his razors. How else would _he_ know them? Before he could ask the demon barber about this, he heard furious banging downstairs.

_**Better go check it out, Sweeney. It's probably **_**her.**

"Her?" Barda didn't need to ask twice. He remembered Todd talking of a 'wretched' woman who had assisted him. He meant the meat pie maker. She must have lived downstairs. Getting up from the chair, he tucked the razor into the pouch at his belt and made his way to the door. Opening it, he walked down the stairs to the side entrance of the pie shop. He entered and saw a familiar face banging away at a wad of pastry with a rolling pin. It was strange to see her with hair – especially with hair that wild and unruly. But it was still her. He could not mistake that face. She looked up and spotted him, and she, too, recognized him.

"Wait, what's your rush, what's your hurry!" She walked over briskly. "'Ave a minute, can't ye sit? Sit ye down, SIT!" She pushed him into a seat behind one of the grimy tables. She suddenly shook her head quite viciously, before walking back to the worktop where her pastry was. "Do forgive me if me head's a little vague," she picked up a bug, "what is that?"

"Lindal?" Barda cut in just as she threw the bug down. She seemed to snap out of whatever had taken hold of her and she blinked those familiar brown eyes in confusion.

"So it is you! Barda!" She walked back over and sat in front of him. "You're here too?"

_**Do you know this woman Barda?**_

"Aye, she's my wife." Barda responded. Lindal cocked her head to one side, and it was then that Barda realized only he could hear Mr Todd when he spoke.

_**Wife? Oh… this could be difficult.**_

"You too?" Lindal whispered. "You hear 'em?" Barda raised his eyebrows. "I woke up here, down in this dirty old bed – oh shush it woman you know it's dirty – and then _she_ starts telling me how I gotta live out her life until some judge is dead."

"That's what Mr Todd told me." Barda replied. "We can't go back until it's done." Lindal nodded, adjusting the low-cut collar of her dress. "So what do you know?"

"There was a barber and his wife," Lindal started. "This proper artist with a knife. Anyway, he got sent away for life because some Judge wanted his pretty little wife. Wouldn't stop until he 'ad her. So the Judge sends this Beadle guy to get her, telling her lies about how the Judge feels bad about her situation. But they're having a party and he rapes her, basically." Something had risen up in Barda, but he knew it was Mr Todd that was getting angry.

"Would no one have mercy upon her?" He hissed.

"It seems to me that Mr Todd hasn't had the best of lives." Lindal sighed. "Oh go away woman, for just one second will ya?" 

"It's not Todd anymore." Barda murmured. Lindal raised her eyebrows. "It's Barda now. Sweeney Barda." He reached into the pouch and drew out the razor in one slick move, showing it to her. "And his revenge will be exacted _properly_." Lindal smiled.

"And Mr Sweeney Barda will be accompanied by Mrs Lindal Lovett, the devil baker." She said to him, holding up her rolling pin. Behind them, Sweeney Todd and Mrs Lovett watched on, devious smiles on their faces.

_**I think it's time Mrs Lovett and I explained the details to you**_

_Aye, we 'ad. Otherwise they don't stand no chance. _

Barda and Lindal were both equally surprised at the new voice they heard – for Barda, it was a woman's voice with a cockney accent that grated on his nerves. For Lindal it was a man's voice, so cold it chilled her to the bone. Barda frowned slightly, and Lindal turned to look behind her, and saw what he had seen before her. She had already seen the woman standing there, but this time she was accompanied by a man who looked scarily similar to Barda. 

Barda looked over the woman standing next to Mr Todd. She had dark auburn hair, curled and twisted on top of her head. He looked at the two together, and was amused at how much they looked as crazy as each other.

And so it was that Barda and Lindal were informed of the details of the tale of Sweeney Todd.

* * *

The sun rose in the sky, trying to send hopeful rays down to the grey city below. Its feeble light cascaded upon number 186, illuminating the terrible condition of the place. Already people were starting to emerge from their homes, ready for the morning rush to get to jobs or markets. A young couple walked, arm-in-arm, past the eerie building on the opposite side of the street. Normally, no one would dare even glance in the direction of the house of horrors, and it will be forever a mystery as to why the young woman happened to turn and glance into the dusty, grimy windows, but look she did, and what she saw made her stop in her tracks. Her husband turned to her, confused.

"What's wrong?" He asked her. She was facing the pie shop now, squinting to get a better look. No matter what, she did not want to go over there.

"I saw… movement. In the devil's shop." She murmured. "There! There it is again!" She pointed at the shop now, and her husband turned to look in the same direction.

"My love, I see not-AH! I see it too!" He gasped. By now a couple of men on their way to the factories had passed them, and stopped at his exclamation. 

"What's going on?" One asked. More and more people were gathering on the street, curious as to what the commotion was. Finally the young woman spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

"The pie shop, there's someone in Mrs Lovett's pie shop!" Horrified murmurs spread through the crowd. Who could possibly be in that place? Why were they there? More importantly… _how_ did they get there?

Inside the pie shop, Barda and Lindal had just finished hearing the tale that had plagued London for the past year. Lindal got up and walked around the shop, thinking it over in her head. Barda remained seated, eyes narrowed as he stared at the table. There was silence, until Lindal moved to one dirty window and looked out onto the street. Her face would have been hidden from the outside by the filthy rag that was trying to be a net curtain, but she brushed a part of it aside. And she gasped in surprise.

"What is it?" Barda looked up. When she said nothing, he got to his feet and walked over. He looked out onto the street and frowned. There was a large crowd gathered on the opposite side, pointing at the pie shop and murmuring amongst themselves. Fear and wonder was written on every face. 

_They've probably seen ya in the shop. They'll wanna know who ya are._

"Then we'll tell them." Barda murmured, walking towards the door.

"Wait! What are you going to tell them? That we're practically reincarnations of the demons that killed people and put them in pies?" Lindal hissed. "I'm sure that will go down _very_ well."

_**Calm yourself. He knows what he's doing.**_

Lindal was still surprised at hearing that cold voice. But she figured if the dead demon barber trusted Barda's word, she should too. After all, he'd never lied to her before, never given her a reason to mistrust him. So she found herself walking up to him where he waited at the door, and they stepped out onto the street together. Instantly the murmurings on the other side of the street ceased. All eyes were upon them. 

Each of them was staring at this strange pair, and each was thinking the same thing. The woman bore an uncanny resemblance to Mrs Lovett, the devil baker who'd served human flesh in her pies. And the man? It was almost as though the demon barber had risen from the grave. It was the man who spoke.

"Friends, neighbours, I am sure you're all wondering who we are." He called out. "I'm sure you're all wondering why we're here. Well, fear not. I can assure you that our purpose is for good, and good only. We are aware of the happenings that occurred here. We know you all have reason to fear us, but there is no need for such fear." He put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "My name is Sweeney Barda." He waited for the surprised gasps to cease. "I know that I bear resemblance to the man who once lived above. I know that my name, also, is similar. 

"This is merely because Mr Todd and I are brothers, born of the same family and the same profession. It is tradition in our family that the barbers shall always use the name Sweeney. That's right – I, too, am a barber." He cast a glance at the woman beside him. "This fine lady here is Lindal Lovett, a cousin of sorts to the woman who once resided here. We heard from a relative here in London that Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett had died, and we came to mourn for them. No matter what evil they did, they were still family.

"After mourning for their deaths, Mrs Lovett here and I decided to try and restore our family's names. We shall re-open both shops after a little refurbishment, and we will give to you a respectable business. Be as wary as you like – Mrs Lovett here will use only the meat from the butcher for her pies, and I will only shave the face – and not the throat."

The crowd gathered turned to look at each other, murmuring once again and trying to decided whether the story was believable. At last, the young man whose wife had first seen the movement in the shop stepped forward.

"Very well, Mr Barda. I assure you that the people of London will not take lightly to your business after what occurred here. You – and Mrs Lovett – will have to prove to us all that you are not like the former occupants. You will have a tough time selling your business until you do this." Barda nodded his head in acknowledgment and smiled.

"Then prove it to you we shall." With that said, he turned and walked back into the pie shop, Lindal in tow. They watched as the crowd started to go their separate ways, and knew that the story would soon spread throughout London like wildfire. 

"That should hold them off for a while." Lindal sighed, sitting down.

"Aye." Barda murmured. "But we have a lot of work to do. First we have to clean this place up, make it look nicer. If we have to convince London that we aren't the demons they fear, we have to do something about this place."

_**You should probably clean up the bake house first.**_

_Yeah. Doubt anybody cleaned that lot up._

Deciding that the bake house probably _was_ the first thing they should do, Barda and Lindal wandered through the shop to the door that led down into it. The moment they walked down the stairs to the large iron door, the stench of death hit them in the face. Barda swung open the door with one hand covering his nose and mouth. There were bloodstains everywhere. There was a trail leading right from the door to the center of the room, where an immense pool had once sat. The figure of Sweeney Todd walked over to that large pool and he knelt down in the middle, cradling an invisible body in his arms. Both Barda and Lindal understood at once. This was where he had died. 

Mrs Lovett was standing beside the huge oven, her hand upon the handle. Lindal walked over and opened the huge door. The smell of burnt hair and flesh wafted from the oven, despite the fact that someone had cleaned it out. She turned to Barda, who was poking around the grinder.

"At least they cleaned up the meat. There'd be an awful stink if they hadn't." He was saying as he looked into the grinder. "And clearly they took the bodies away. Seems like all they left were the stains." He looked around and his eye caught sight of something lying in the darkness. Curious, he walked over and picked it up. It was a hat, tattered and old. He brought it out into the light, and both barber and baker gasped.

_That's…_

… _**Lucy's hat.**_

Sweeney Todd walked over and reached out for the hat, holding it in his almost translucent hand. His Lucy's hat. It had remained here to haunt him. He stood there staring at it, not making any sound or any movement. 

"Mr Todd? Is everything alright?" Lindal asked, walking over with Mrs Lovett.

_**She wore this when I killed her.**_

_Hush now, love, it's not your fault._

Sweeney wanted nothing more than to turn around and yell at her that no, it was _her_ fault he'd killed his wife, but he knew that he'd resolved that matter a year ago when he'd thrown her into her own oven. He was awful surprised that she was still her normal self around him. He'd expected some hostility at least, but she remained devoted to him. The woman confused him so much. He'd killed her and she was still in love with him. 

Barda felt the uncomfortable silence settle amongst them, and cleared his throat. He turned to Lindal with a smirk.

"Well then, Mrs Lovett, shall we begin?" Lindal returned the smirk with a glint in her eye.

"Why, yes, Mr Barda, I believe we shall." Lucy's hat was forgotten as the two new occupants got to work cleaning up the bake house.

After the stains had been removed – which had taken an incredibly long time to complete – Barda wandered up to his new parlour and frowned at the blood that coated _everything_.

"You just couldn't have cleaned up after you killed the judge, could you?" He asked Mr Todd irritably. The demon barber rolled his eyes.

_**Why yes, because the only thought on my mind back then was, 'oh, I must clean this up before I go and find out why Mrs Lovett screamed'.**_

"She didn't scream right away. That lad was hiding in the box. You could have started cleaning then." Barda drawled.

_**I don't clean.**_

Deciding that any further discussion was pointless, Barda set to work cleaning up the parlour. The blood was easy to get off the windows and the mirrors, and relatively easy to get off the walls – especially since any remaining wallpaper had been torn off long ago. He cleaned off the chair next, scrubbing at it until the rag he was using was dark with blood.

"He sure had a lot of blood, this judge." He muttered while he worked.

_**Not nearly enough.**_

Barda rolled his eyes and scrubbed harder at the armrests. He was kneeling beside the chair now, and his eyes kept roaming to the gears that lay beneath it, hidden from sight. 

"Do tell me, where did you learn the skills to alter this chair to your liking?" He asked Todd.

_**Prison. You learn a lot of things there.**_

"I wouldn't know." Barda's eyes found the pedal beside the chair and he stopped scrubbing. "I guess it can't hurt to check…" Standing up, he slammed his foot onto the pedal. It emitted a terrible screech, but the trapdoor behind the chair swung open and the chair tilted back. Looking down into the hole, Barda saw the gears at the bottom turn, and the other trapdoor opened to reveal the floor of the bake house.

_**A long drop, isn't it?**_

"I'll say. If they weren't already dead when they went down, they'd be dead when they hit the floor." Barda took his foot off the pedal and watched the trapdoors swing shut and the chair return to its normal position. "Did they ever find out how the customers got down to the bake house?"

_**No. They assumed I carried them down. No one thought to examine the chair.**_

"Good. I don't relish having to find a new one. Especially if I'm going to carry out your dirty work."

_**That won't be for a while though, will it?**_

"No. If my customers start disappearing too, the law will be alerted." Barda sighed, throwing down the red cloth as he finished cleaning the chair. "Best to play it safe until we've earned some trust."

_**Then I hope you're good at lying and deceiving. **_

Barda smirked as he remembered his childhood days in the palace. He'd been a terrible horror back then.

"The very best."

* * *

Thoughts? Please review :) Or Sweeney Barda will give you a shave XD 


	3. Chapter 2: Work Begins

**Chapter 2: Work Begins**

As expected, people still avoided number 186 despite the story that Barda had told them. People are a suspicious lot, after all. The place had certainly been cleaned up a lot – the gold lettering above the pie shop had been replaced, and the windows were clean, as were the new net curtains. Many had seen Sweeney Barda up a ladder outside, fixing up the outside of the shop.

The barber shop had been fixed up, too. The swirling red and white pole that protruded from the wall was brand new, and the glass in the large slanting window had been replaced with gleaming new stuff. No one thought to wonder where the money for it all had come from. They instantly thought that their families had given them the money.

Mrs Lovett had been seen walking down to the butcher's every three days and always came back with a small wagonload of meat. But no one had dared to enter the pie shop. People had walked past it, however, and peered in through the door. The inside was as nice as the outside, and rows of pies sat in a warm oven so they didn't go cold.

Business for Sweeney Barda was just as bad, perhaps worse. No man wanted to walk up those new wooden stairs to the parlour, for fear they would never walk down them again. Finally, when another crowd of people had gathered around number 186, Sweeney Barda strode down the stairs with a smile on his face.

"Why stand there gawking when you could come and gain something from our business?" He asked them. "Does it not occur to you that if Mrs Lovett _did_ use human flesh for her pies, that she would not have pies to sell now? After all, I have had no custom, as many of you will know, since you observe my shop so closely." Many of the people glanced at each other, knowing this to be true.

After a brief moment of silence, a young man emerged from the crowd. He turned to face them.

"Ladies, gentlemen, I am young. My whole life is ahead of me. And yet, I am about to lay it in the hands of this gentleman. If I do not emerge from his parlour, you shall know his true intentions." The crowd murmured agreement, but another man stepped forward.

"Very brave of you lad, I'm sure. But he is not going to kill you with us knowing you're in there. If he wanted to kill someone, he'd do it when you weren't expected to return." The man chided. The young man went to respond, but before he could speak, Sweeney Barda cut in.

"A fair point, sir, to be sure." He walked over to the young man. "But if this young sir here wants a shave, then a shave he shall get. Come, lad." He put a hand on the lad's shoulder and led him towards the stairs, following him up after. "What's your name then, lad?"

"Mark, sir. Mark Ingestrie."

"Well then, Mark, I am grateful for your custom." Mark walked into the parlour and looked around. It was a dark room, but Sweeney Barda had obviously made some attempt at brightening it up; a vase of gillyflowers and daisies sat upon the cabinet in front of the vanity mirror. "Please, sit lad." Sweeney Barda motioned to the chair in the center of the room, and Mark walked over and sat down.

"These are nice premises, sir." Mark said politely. Barda picked up a white sheet and draped it over Mark's front, tucking it into the back of his shirt.

"It wasn't easy to brighten up this gloom, I tell you. My brother always did like doom and gloom." Barda replied as he reached for the lather.

"You certainly look a lot like your brother, Mr Barda." Barda glanced into the mirror and saw Mr Todd staring back at him from beside the lad. Their eyes met and Barda shook his head slightly. "Even that white streak in your hair." Barda's hand reached up and touched the streak, and he smiled.

"Why, of course." He walked back over to Mark and began applying the lather. "We were very close. We were part of a large family, y'see. We had two other brothers, but they were much younger than us. The rest of our siblings were girls. Todd was two years my senior, but we were the eldest children." Once the lather was applied, Barda placed it back down on the cabinet.

"Did you look up to him?" Mark asked.

"Oh, yes. It was he who gave me this white streak. Said he wanted us to be the same." Barda picked up one of the beautiful silver razors and smiled. "And we are the same, in many ways." He opened up the razor and stared into its shimmering blade. "For instance, we both admire the beauty of the simplest things." He crossed the room to the chair and bent over it, razor pressed against Mark's throat. "Do you admire simple beauty, Mark?" He felt the lad tense up beneath him. Smiling, he brought the razor up towards him, starting the shave.

"That Mrs Lovett's a simple beauty, sir." Barda's fist clenched around the razor and he dug the blade in a little too much, causing Mark to yelp slightly.

"My apologies, lad." Barda murmured. "Indeed, Mrs Lovett is a fine beauty."

"There was rumours, you know. About Mr Todd and the previous Mrs Lovett." Barda looked up from his work to glance at the still form of Mr Todd, sat upon the great box in the corner.

"Rumours?" Barda questioned, walking around to Mark's other side.

"Yes, sir. Said there was something between them. T'was clear that the lady adored Mr Todd. Do you know if this was true?" Barda smiled at Mr Todd.

"He did mention Mrs Lovett's affections for him. But he was devoted to his late wife. My brother would never have betrayed her." Mr Todd nodded once, the simple gesture telling Barda he'd said just the right thing.

"And what of you sir? Are you fond of Mrs Lovett?" Mark waited for the answer, but he received none. "I beg your pardon, sir. It was not my place to ask such a question."

"Never mind, lad." Barda turned Mark's head to get at the last bit of lather. "There we are. All done." He gave Mark a cloth to wipe his face with, and the lad stood up, taking off the white sheet that covered him.

"Why, sir, your skill is amazing! I have not had a shave this smooth since…" Mark seemed to catch himself before he said something he didn't want to.

"Since what, lad?" Barda demanded. Mark swallowed, hard.

"Since I received a shave from… from Mr Todd." Barda smiled.

"Well, my brother was my teacher, Mark. Taught me all he knew. These very razors were a gift from him when I began a successful career in our art." He walked to the door and held it open for him. "Now, you can tell your friends what you think of me." Mark handed him the money for the shave and smiled.

"I will, Mr Barda. Hopefully you will receive more customers after I do so." Mark walked through the door. "And perhaps I shall have a pie or two before I go on my way." As Barda closed the door behind him, he smirked.

"It's been a while since I've had to call upon my boyhood skills." He looked over at Mr Todd. "Lying always was a strong point for me."

_**It shows.**_

"Shouldn't be too long before the business picks up." Barda began cleaning the razor on the cloth that hung from his belt, removing all traces of the lather. "Will be a while before the judge hears about us, though."

_**That's fine. You've got a lot of things to do before you'll even see the judge.**_

"You know, from the story you and Mrs Lovett told us, I got the impression you were impatient about getting to the judge." Barda murmured casually.

_**I killed him once.**_

"And that's enough for you? I doubt that." Barda smirked. Sweeney Todd grimaced in frustration. How was this man so able to see through him?

_**It doesn't matter. Mrs Lovett always told me to be patient.**_

"Yes, and you listened to everything she said, didn't you?" Barda raised his eyebrows and Sweeney Todd glared at him. "Relax, Todd. I'm winding you up to entertain myself. You're so easy to get to."

_**You're lucky I need you.**_

"Why? Want to kill me?" Barda held out the razor in his hand. "Go on then."

_**Quiet. You know damn well I can't.**_

"Yeah, I know. That's what makes it fun."

_**You have a sick sense of humour.**_

"Says you." Both men exchanged a brief, amused smile. They were a lot alike even without being practically the same man at that current moment. Sweeney Todd was mildly grateful that he had been given a man he could actually get along with.

Downstairs, Lindal was smiling as she put two hot pies in front of Mark Ingestrie. From his clean-shaven face, she knew that Barda had shown off his newfound skill. He picked one of the pies up and took a large bite. He swallowed it instantly.

"Ma'am, these pies are delicious!" He exclaimed. "What meat do you use?"

"Pork and veal, lad. Butcher's finest." She replied with a smile. "Not people." She added, and Mark chuckled slightly before taking another bite of pie. "So, Mr Barda give you a good shave, did he?"

"Oh yes Ma'am, he's brilliant with a razor."

"That he is, lad. The very best." Lindal wiped at a table with a cloth, glancing now and then at the people outside in the street. They were still expecting Mark to go back outside. She looked back at the young man and saw that he was already halfway through the second pie.

"Pardon me for saying this, ma'am, but you seem to admire him more than most." Mark said with a shy smile. Lindal busied herself with wiping the table again.

"He's a fine man." She murmured. "An odd one, to be sure… he's not a common kind." Mark listened to her words with interest. "Very stubborn, yet he's patient all the same. Not one for affection either, but I guess you just couldn't have him any other way."

"Mrs Lovett ma'am, do you perhaps… love Mr Barda?" Mark inquired quietly. Lindal stopped wiping the table abruptly.

"He's a good friend." She replied hastily. Mark smiled. He got up and walked to the door nearest to her.

"That wasn't what I meant, ma'am, but I'll leave you to your privacy." He told her. "I thank you for the pies, they were most delicious. I will tell all I meet that you make the best pies in London." And with that, he walked out the door and crossed the street to the crowd waiting for him. Lindal straightened up and watched him through the windows in the door, and smiled.

_How's it your pies get called the best when mine only managed to be the worst?_

"Sorry Mrs Lovett, but I guess money was on my side." Lindal laughed.

_Yer, that sounds 'bout right._

"I'm sure your pies tasted fine after Mr Todd's little epiphany." Lindal smirked at Mrs Lovett, who was leaning on the worktop where the pastry was laid out.

_Ever tasted human flesh, Lindal?_

"My ancestors probably have, but not I." Lindal shrugged. "Don't particularly want to, either."

_It's not all that bad. My boy Toby loved my pies._

"What happened to him anyway?"

_No idea. Mr T says he walked off after slitting his throat, but we've never seen him around here, nor heard of him._

"Hmm. Probably ran away or something. Boys tend to do that in bad situations." Lindal's mind wandered to her own children back home. Were they all okay?

_Have children of your own, do you?_

"Aye. Six of them."

_Six? What on earth possessed you to have so many?!_

"They just sort of… happened." Lindal laughed. "We had the first one the same year we were married. Our second followed the next year. Then, three years later, we had our first set of twins – two identical boys. Five years after that, we had our second set of twins, a boy and a girl."

_That's a lot to manage._

"They can be a handful at times. The last two are still quite young."

_You'll want to be getting back to them then, won't you?_

"I do, yes. But I can't until this is done, so I'll just have to bear being away from them. I don't know how he's going to cope though. He's ever so close with our Mariah."

_Oh? He's very much like Mr T then. _

"I thought the same when we heard the full story." Lindal sighed. "Poor Johanna. Did he ever get to meet her?"

_No, he didn't. Shame, really, since that was one of the reasons he was killing everyone._

"That is a shame." The door that led up to the tonsorial parlour opened and Barda walked in, Mr Todd in tow.

"The boy's gone, I see." Barda smiled.

"Aye, ate some pies before he left. You made a good impression on him." Lindal told him. "I was just telling Mrs Lovett about our children, and 'ow you're so close to our Mariah." Just as she'd predicted, Mr Todd perked up and glanced at Barda.

_**You have a daughter?**_

"Two, actually. And four sons." Barda told him. "Mariah's the eldest girl. My little angel she is."

_**And she'd be beautiful and pale, with raven hair, like you…**_

"Mr Todd?" The dead demon barber turned and left, walking back up to the parlour. Barda shrugged. "Touchy subject, clearly." Lindal couldn't get his words out of her head, though.

Was she the only one that had noticed that Mr Todd had called Barda _beautiful_?

_

* * *

__Author's Note: The character of Mark Ingestrie was the original love of Johanna Oakley in the original tale of Sweeney Todd. I thought I'd add him in here for some fun. Oh, and also from the original story, Mrs Lovett called her meat 'pork' and 'veal' (though they were really human flesh XD) and so I figured that should be the meat Lindal uses for her pies._


	4. Chapter 3: The Word Carries

**Chapter 3: The Word Carries**

After Mark Ingestrie's visit to both parlour and pie shop, people were beginning to lose their initial suspicion of number 186. And, with Mrs Lovett's ongoing trips to the butcher, people began to wander into the pie shop to sample a pie or two. Every so often, a brave gentleman would walk up those wooden steps to the parlour, and those in the shop would watch and await his return.

When he did return, he was smiling and stroking his smooth face with wonder. Slowly, more and more gentlemen would journey up to see Mr Barda. Business was starting to pick up and more money was rolling in. Gradually, the word spread through London that the new residents of number 186 did indeed offer a respectable business.

The word soon reached the ears of a particular man who found the name Sweeney very familiar. He was in the market, picking up some supplies and checking around to see if all was as it should be, and he overheard two men talking together as they bought fruit from a seller.

"…A skilled barber, you say?" One asked the other.

"Oh yes. I've never had such a smooth shave before. He's certainly got some talent there."

"What was his name again, I think I'll pop in and see him."

"It's Mr Sweeney Barda, over on Fleet Street. Number 186."

"The demon barber's shop? Well I suppose someone had to move into that old place some time. I think I'll head down there after I'm finished here." Both men then walked off in separate directions, leaving the eavesdropper to stand and stare in astonishment at the floor. Fleet Street? He had to get back, he had to tell…

"Beadle!" The sharp voice cut through his thoughts and the man turned to meet the stony emerald gaze of the man he had found himself friends with.

"Ah, my lord, I was just going to find you…"

"What is it?" The other man snapped at the Beadle.

"I have overheard some interesting and perhaps disastrous news, my lord. There is someone taking residence in the old demon barber's shop." The Beadle watched surprise creep into that emerald gaze. "They say he is a barber, of great skill."

"A barber, you say? This may be terrible news indeed…" With that, both the Beadle and the man he addressed as 'my lord' turned and left the market.

* * *

Lindal was cleaning up after the lunchtime rush when Barda strolled into the shop, hair perfect as always, the snowy streak standing out amongst the raven black. He was tucking his razors into the pouch on his belt, and there was a satisfied smile on his face.

"Business is certainly picking up." He commented, spotting the pile of dirty dishes beside the sink. "Need any help? I've closed up for an hour." Lindal smiled gratefully at him.

"Help would be nice, yes." He rolled up his sleeves and crossed the room to the sink, which was already full of soapy water. "Maybe we should ask around for a kid to help out in the shop. Mrs Lovett did alright when she had Toby to help her." Barda turned from the sink, arms deep in the water.

"I suppose. Shouldn't we wait for a while? I mean, we've just got started. And it'd probably be best to talk it over with those two first." He replied. She nodded. "Come to think of it, where are they? Mr Todd's normally hovering at my back, watching me work and trying to distract me."

"Mrs Lovett said they were going to see if a few 'old friends' are back in town." She told him. Barda knew that when she'd said 'old friends' she was referring to those others who had been a part of the tale of Sweeney Todd.

"Ah, I suppose that would be important." He stacked the clean dishes on the other side of the sink, and Lindal set about drying them off, ready for the dinnertime rush. "You know… I can't help but wonder if our kids are alright." Lindal sighed.

"I know, me too."

"I mean, are they with Lief and Jasmine? Or… Sharn? Doom? I hope they're not on their own." Barda stopped his work for a moment. "They're probably worried sick about us. It's not every day that both your parents just up and vanish. How are we ever going to explain this to them when we do eventually go home?"

"I don't know, Barda. I really don't. I guess we'll worry about that when it happens. Until then, we have to concentrate on our task at hand. The sooner we right whatever wrong there is, the sooner we can get back to our children." He nodded agreement and passed her a freshly washed plate. As she took it from him, she let her hand touch his in a sign of comfort.

"Though, I am curious as to who this judge is. I mean, who will have taken his place in the world? And why?" Barda dried off his hands once the dishes were done and passed the cloth to Lindal so she could do the same.

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough, dear." She smiled. "Not soon enough for Mrs Lovett, I don't think. She's rather impatient."

"That's odd. Mr Todd isn't impatient. It's like they've switched roles or something." Barda laughed. "Ah well. If it makes Todd more bearable, I'm not going to complain."

_**I think I resent that.**_

"Oh good, you're back." Barda said with a grin. "Find anything?"

_Not yet, love. Seems like there's no word of the judge or the Beadle._

"Hmm. That's odd. I would've thought a new judge would have been as strange as a new barber and a new pie maker." Lindal frowned. "Surely someone will see the connection?"

_**Probably not. After all, these are the same people that had to be **_**told**_** that the pies they were eating were made from human flesh. These are the same people that didn't notice my customers rarely ever came out of my shop after going in.**_

_A simple lot, they are._

"I guess that's true." Barda murmured. "Even that lad of yours, Toby, didn't realize it until you locked him in the bake house."

_**He really was a simple thing. Didn't wonder for one second why his master would just up and leave him here.**_

_Bless his heart. He was a good lad._

"That reminds me. We were wondering about whether we should hire a kid to help around this shop. Ever since the business picked up it's been a lot of work for one person." Lindal sighed. "What says ye to that?"

_A young 'un would be good to hire, I think._

_**No, wait for a while. It'd probably be hard to find a kid willing to work here, anyway. Kids are more adventurous than adults, that's for certain, but they scare far too easily. Hasn't been a kid on this street for a year. **_

"That's a fair point." Barda agreed. "Perhaps a young lad will find curiosity gets the better of him, and then we'll hire him. Until then, I reckon you'll do alright on your own."

"I guess so. I mean, it's not like I'm cutting up corpses all the time." Lindal laughed, though it was somewhat shaky.

_Will ye be able to do it, when the time comes?_

"Ah, I daresay I'll manage." Lindal shrugged. "If I have to, I have to." Barda watched her closely. He saw right through her, and knew that she would rather not cut up corpses. Her ancestors may have been brutal savages, but she certainly wasn't. She could look upon death without fear, but to be a part of it… that was another matter altogether.

He didn't have much of a problem with death. It had been a part of his life for a very long time. His friends and family had been slaughtered in the invasion, and he'd witnessed helpless citizens of Del felled by the brutal Grey Guards. It was because of those Guards that he did not fear being a part of death. He'd lost count of how many of those evil men he'd killed. Innocent men he did not relish murdering, but those who had caused harm to others… well, he would see about those.

"Barda?" Lindal was waving a hand in front of his face, and he shook himself free of his thoughts.

"Sorry, what?" She smiled.

"You blanked out for a moment there."

_Off in his own 'ed. Just like you, Mr T._

_**Hm.**_

"It's nothing. Just thinking, is all." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

_**You've killed before, haven't you?**_

Barda cursed Sweeney Todd for being able to hear his thoughts, or at least understand some of them.

"You can't really call them men. They weren't born from a mother. They were created in a factory in a dark, bad place. They looked like men." Barda murmured. "I must have killed more than forty of them."

_**That's why you're okay with killing the men who wronged me and my family.**_

"Yes." Barda closed his eyes. "I'm sure most men are guilty of this, but I have found myself harbouring murderous thoughts several times in my life." He opened his eyes again and glared at the floor. "I envied Sharn for being the death of that Prandine. I wish I could have been the one to kill him. And I wouldn't have done so in the way she did. No. I would have wanted to see him bleed. I would have wanted to see his life slip away beneath my hands." Lindal watched him, surprised. "He was responsible for killing my mother. I wanted him to die horribly."

Sweeney Todd watched Barda with a slight smile. Oh yes, this man was perfect. He couldn't have asked for anyone better to live out his revenge once again.

"That's perfectly understandable, Barda." Lindal said to him, walking over and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Like Mr Todd, Mrs Lovett was observing Barda and thinking how much alike he was to her Mr T. Barda may not be a homicidal maniac set on revenge, but there were recognizable traits in him.

_Don't you worry about a thing, love. Every man and woman has thoughts like those at some point in their lives. _

_**It's only natural.**_

"You would say that." Barda smirked.

* * *

In a small apartment overlooking Fleet Market, a middle-aged man stood in the window, looking down upon the people in the market. A young boy was scuttling around the apartment, dusting and cleaning despite the inch-thick dirt that coated everything. The man frowned as he overheard the Beadle's conversation. Thanks to the poor workmanship on the window, the glass was as good as gone, and all manner of noise was able to reach the ears of anyone inside.

"A barber in Fleet Street?" The man murmured to himself.

"What's that sir?" The boy asked, overhearing his master. The man turned from the window and scowled at the boy.

"He's back! That darn barber is back." He muttered fiercely.

"What barber, sir?"

"The one on Fleet Street." The man turned back to the window and glared down at the people in the market. "Sweeney." He spoke the word with such distaste that the boy cringed.

"What are you going to do about him, sir?" The man smiled.

"Exactly what would have happened before, boy. Gotta play the game right if we're gonna play it at all." He smoothed out his blue jacket and glanced over at his set of razors. "I think it's almost time for Pirelli to make his appearance."

* * *

Barda re-opened the parlour and was pleased to find that many more gentlemen were coming up for a shave. Clearly Mark had kept his word, and had told all he met about number 186. He'd just sent off another satisfied customer and was preparing for the next when a young lad walked in.

"Come for a shave, lad?" Barda asked him with a smile. The boy seemed confused, as though he didn't know why he was here.

"Excuse me sir, this may sound rather strange, but… do I know you?" Barda frowned and took in the boy's appearance. He was tall, with shoulder-length brunette hair and blue eyes. Barda found that his face looked incredibly familiar, though he could not figure where he might have seen him before.

_**That's Anthony, the sailor. See what he wants first.**_

"What makes you think you do, lad?" Barda asked him, avoiding answering his question. The boy – Anthony, Todd had called him – sighed.

"I don't know, sir. When I woke up this morning, something told me to come and find a man by the name of Sweeney. I asked around and a young man – oh what was his name… Mark, I think – told me that he'd only heard of one man called Sweeney, and that was Sweeney Barda, on Fleet Street." Anthony murmured. "There's something in the back of my mind that says I know you, sir."

_**I knew Anthony well. I guess you could call us friends, even though I didn't really see him as such. Might as well tell him he's right, you do know him. Since you're so good at this lying lark, you should be able to figure something out.**_

"Ah, yes. Anthony, isn't it?" Barda smiled. Anthony nodded.

"So I do know you?"

"Aye, lad. You brought me here to London, remember?" Anthony seemed to search in the back of his mind. "With Mrs Lovett, downstairs. The boat we were crossing to London on was involved in an accident. Your boat picked us both up and we came here to London with you." Finally, Anthony smiled.

"Oh! Yes, I remember! I beg your pardon sir, for forgetting you and the kind lady below. I seem to recall that we were, perhaps, friends?" Barda nodded.

"Yes, indeed, Anthony." At that moment, a gentleman appeared at the top of the stairs, clearly intending for a shave. He knocked on the glass in the door and opened it.

"I am not disturbing you am I, Mr Barda?" He asked politely. Anthony turned to him.

"No sir, I was merely dropping by on a friend. I shall be on my way now, Mr Barda. I have some business to attend to in Hyde Park."

"Very well. I shall see you again, Anthony." Anthony nodded and left the parlour. Barda then turned to the gentleman waiting. "Please sir, sit down. What may I do for you today?" The gentleman sat down, removing his hat and coat.

"Just a shave, Mr Barda." He said with a smile. "Friends already, sir? I heard you were new to the town."

"Indeed I am, sir, but that kind lad helped Mrs Lovett and I get here." Barda said, putting the protective sheet over the man.

"Ah, but I hear you have another friend, too sir. Young man by the name of Mark. Speaks highly of you, he does." Barda smiled as he lathered the man's face.

"I hadn't an idea that the lad was so fond of us." He admitted. "Well, he was my first customer. I owe it to him. If it wasn't for his kind words of me, I doubt any other gentlemen would have wanted to test my skills."

"I daresay that would have been due to your residence, sir, and your relation to the demon barber."

"Aye. It doesn't take much to see that I am unlike my brother, though." Barda said as he shaved the man's face. He stole a glance at Mr Todd, who stood in a corner, brooding as usual.

_**Unlike me, Barda? You really are good at lying.**_

"I figure that to be true, Mr Barda. After all, one should not judge on looks alone." Barda, with his newfound skill, finished the shave in half the time it would have taken an average barber to do the same. "My, my, my. You are a skilled man, indeed."

"It's in the blood, sir." Barda handed him a cloth to wipe his face with, and removed the sheet from his front. "I thank you for your custom."

"No, no, sir. I thank _you_ for the wonderful shave." The man passed Barda some money. "Here's the fee, and a little extra for the speed and quality of my shave."

"You are generous, sir." Barda smiled. The man put on his coat and tipped his hat at Barda before turning to leave the parlour. "Would it be too much to ask of you to perhaps taste one of Mrs Lovett's pies? She uses only the finest pork and veal."

"Then perhaps I shall be persuaded to try one or two." With that, the man left the parlour. Barda jingled the coins in his hand with a smile.

_**No one ever tipped me.**_

"That's because you didn't even give them chance to _pay_." Barda laughed. "And you took their money anyway. I'd say that was one heck of a tip."

_**Comes with the job.**_

"I'm sure it does, Todd." Barda was admiring the razor once more, and he smiled devilishly. "I'm sure it does."

* * *

_Author's Note: I hope this is helping to build up an image of what Barda and Lindal are having to go through before the main story begins to happen. I've got three 'books' ready for this, with roughly ten chapters in each. So that's thirty altogether (Prologues and Epilogues will count as chapters). This is the book before the tale of Sweeney Todd, so I'm trying to set the scene for what's about to happen. - homesweethomicide13_


	5. Chapter 4: The Girl In The Window

**Chapter 4: The Girl in the Window**

In a much nicer area of London, not much more than a thirty minute walk from Fleet Street, a grand house stood tall on a stretch of street that seemed to occupy only the one house. Its large oaken doors were shut to the public, and it was common knowledge that strangers were not welcome upon its grounds.

The house had been empty for a year, until a man had moved into it with a friend and a beautiful young girl with golden hair. The man was a judge of some sort, very much like the previous owner of the house, though this man was much younger. He didn't have greying hair, for instance. The friend he had brought with him had easily taken up the position of Beadle. And the beautiful young girl? She was locked away in a room with a window that faced onto the street.

She could be seen for hours on end in her window, sitting and staring out, almost longingly. She always wore a look of desperation on her face, like she feared the walls around her. She was never let out of the house, not even accompanied by the judge or the Beadle.

The two men were at first greatly welcomed to the neighbourhood, but it soon became clear to those who lived nearby that both of them were shady characters. The Beadle – in his leather coat and tall hat – was a repulsive character, sneering at anyone who dared meet his eye. He was pale, his eyes were cold and his sun-bleached hair was lank. Nothing about him was at all appealing.

The judge was a far more handsome man, but he was incredibly suspicious. His slicked back dark hair was never out of place, and he dressed in rich clothes that accentuated his power. Though his face would appear kind, his eyes were stony and hateful. Whenever anyone asked about the girl in the window, he would make some snide comment and walk away. All anyone knew about her is that the judge had rightly adopted her when both her parents disappeared.

Up in her window, the girl sighed and stole a glance at the birds in the cage hanging from her ceiling. They were chirping quite happily as they fluttered behind the bars.

"Oh, how is it you sing?" She whispered to them. "I cannot sing whilst trapped in these four walls. I long to be in the outdoors." She touched her golden locks and sighed again. "This whole thing is so confusing to me. I wake up one morning in this room, and upon looking in the mirror find that instead of my raven hair, it has been replaced with this… blonde hair." She glanced in the mirror now, and sighed. The blonde reminded her of Lief.

"Jasmine!" She winced at the Beadle's harsh voice. "The Judge says to stop sitting in that darn window! People are starting to pry!" She ignored him and continued to sit in her window. It was the closest she could get to being outside, and she was not going to give it up for the cruel man who kept her locked away.

It had certainly been a shock when she'd found out she was not alone in this house, and it was an even bigger shock – and quite horrifying, too – when she found out who was keeping her locked in this room. She hadn't expected to see either of them here.

Downstairs in one of the many large rooms, the Beadle sat down in a large armchair and resumed his reading of a book certainly not suitable for any young eyes. He was quite surprised to find this small library of adult books, but he had found that this new form of his rather enjoyed looking at them.

When he'd been told the story of why he was here, he hadn't really paid much attention. The judge, however, was hooked upon every word. Why he cared so deeply about the story, he didn't know, but if the judge was interested then the Beadle had declared that he would show mild interest too, even if it was faked.

Finding Jasmine in the locked room upstairs was quite a shock. Still, the pretty blonde girl was a part of the story and they weren't to let her out of the house. The judge had gone a step further and kept her locked up in that one room. He couldn't let her out of his sight, and he planned to make sure she stayed where he could watch over her. He had to do this the way that Turpin wanted it. He knew he could not let anyone get to Jasmine.

The Beadle looked up from his book as the judge entered the room, wearing his most deadly scowl. His neat dark hair was immaculate as always.

"Beadle Glock! Did you tell that foolish girl to stay away from the window?" He demanded. The Beadle – Glock – instantly jumped to his feet.

"Why, yes, my lord. I did." He stammered out.

"Well she has paid no attention to you, Glock. I checked upon her just now, and still she sits in that accursed window." The judge sighed. "I am going to the court. When I get back, she had better not be there."

"Yes, my lord, of course." Glock let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding the moment the judge left the room. How was he supposed to get that girl away from the window?

While Glock was thinking over ways to persuade Jasmine to not sit in the window for hours on end, the judge was making his way to the court. He'd only been a judge there for a few days, but already he'd built up a solid reputation for being one of the very best. Already he'd sentenced many criminals to death or imprisonment. He'd had people comment on what appeared to be his natural-born talent, and also on how much he resembled the deceased judge Turpin.

He'd managed to pass it off as a coincidence. He was good at deceiving people, but he just didn't want to bother making up some foolish story. He was simply intent on getting that barber arrested and shipped off back to Australia, and making sure that sailor didn't show his face near Jasmine. The sooner he managed to do both of those things, the sooner he could return to where he came from. He had been rather annoyed when he discovered that he had been brought to this place without his consent.

Back in the grand house, Jasmine was gracefully ignoring the Beadle Glock, who was demanding that she get away from the window. She was combing out her long hair and thinking of her blonde husband. What was he doing now? Where was he? More to the point, was he worried about her? And what of Kree and Filli?

Of course he was. She'd probably just vanished overnight. What did their children think? She longed to see them again. Maybe if she escaped this house… no. She had to wait for the sailor, Anthony, to come. Otherwise he'd never see her, and he'd never swear to rescue her, and she'd never get out of this place.

When was he going to come? And _who_ was he? The girl Johanna had told her his name was Anthony, and that he was a sailor, but who was going to be in his place? She'd also been told to be cautious around a man who would go by the name of Sweeney. Johanna hadn't gone into detail about why, but she did not relish the thought of him, though he had apparently been Anthony's friend.

"He must have kept some strange friendships then." Jasmine murmured to herself.

"Jasmine, are you listening to me! The judge says-,"

"I don't care what the judge says!" Jasmine snapped at last. There was the sound of a key in a lock, and the bedroom door opened to reveal Glock. "Leave me alone, sir."

"Jasmine, please. If you're still there when he comes back, he'll take out his anger on both of us." Glock sighed. Jasmine frowned.

"When will he be back?" She inquired. Glock lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug.

"Perhaps in an hour or two. I'm not quite sure. He's gone to the court, so it shouldn't be too long, the rate he sends criminals off." He told her.

"Very well. In about an hour I shall move from the window, and wait till he returns. After that, I will resume sitting in my window." She said defiantly. Glock wanted to argue further, but he decided not to. He'd only just got her to agree to move from the window when the judge returned. If he argued with her over it, she might decide to change her mind.

"Thank you, Jasmine." With that, he closed the door and locked it once again. Jasmine sighed. Why must she be locked away like this? According to Johanna, she had been allowed to roam in certain parts of the house, but chose to remain in her room unless ordered elsewhere. But Jasmine had no say in the matter.

Glock stared at the key in his hand and frowned. The judge had ordered Jasmine to be locked in that one room at all times, even though he was aware that she hated being confined in a small space. And the judge hadn't been particularly nice to _him_, either. In a moment of defiance, he turned and unlocked her door, and after a moment's thought, left the key lying on the carpet, before walking off into the house.

Jasmine turned to stare at the door when she heard it unlock. She waited for Glock to come back into the room, but when he didn't, she frowned. Getting up, she walked over to the door and put her hand on the handle. Slowly and cautiously, she turned the handle and pulled. The door opened, revealing an empty hallway. Jasmine smiled.

"Thank you, Glock." She whispered. She spotted the key on the floor and picked it up. At a glance at the door, she realized she could unlock it from the inside. "Thank you again." She walked back into the room and locked her door for when the judge returned. Then she hid the key beneath the mattress on her bed. Perhaps it wasn't going to be as bad as she had initially thought it would. Whenever the judge was out, she was free to roam the house, and Glock wouldn't say anything about it since he was the one who gave her the key.

* * *

When the judge returned two hours later, he stole a glance at Jasmine's window, and was pleased to see that she was not sitting in it for once. Just before he got to the steps that led up to his front door, a woman stopped him.

"Sorry to bother you sir, but you're new to this neighbourhood, aren't you?" She asked politely. Deciding to humour her, he smiled and nodded.

"That I am, madam. Moved her not too long ago with a friend of mine." He informed her.

"Ah, and that pretty little thing that sits in the window. Where is she today sir, I haven't seen her? She's such a beauty to look upon. Brightens up this dreary town, she does." The judge was starting to get frustrated. If she sat in the window, people talked. If she didn't sit in the window, people talked.

"She's probably been doing something important." He replied quickly, wanting to get away.

"You know, I remember when there was another pretty little blonde girl sitting in that window." The judge froze. This could be bad. "Her name was Johanna, and the judge Turpin used to keep her locked away in that very room." The woman eyed him suspiciously. "You're a judge too, aren't you sir?"

"I am. But I'm new to the position." He told her, using the same lie he'd told everyone else. "And I adopted Jasmine when both her parents died."

"Aye, so did he." The woman murmured. "Except her daddy wasn't dead. He shipped that lovely gentleman off on a false charge. No one could prove it, but we all knew it was true."

"I can assure you, madam, that I did not ship anybody off before I came here with Jasmine." The judge stated firmly. "Now, I must be off." He turned and walked up the steps to his front door, and with a final glance at the woman on the street, he walked inside. The moment the door was closed and he was out of sight of the public, he ran a hand over his forehead and sighed. "That was close. People know far too much about that damn Turpin." He was glad the old judge hadn't followed him outside today. Usually he would hover over him at all times. "I have to be more careful in future. People are starting to get suspicious of me. I have to get to that barber as soon as possible."

He spotted the Beadle walking towards him and he immediately resumed his normal composure.

"Ah, Glock, I see Jasmine listened to you at last." He said in a strong, bold voice. Glock nodded his head once.

"She did, my lord, and thank heavens too. I was getting rather frustrated with her." Glock lied. He had to be careful. If the judge found out Jasmine had a key to her door, he'd be in big trouble.

"She'd have answered to me if she had disobeyed your orders, my friend." The judge put a hand on Glock's shoulder. "Tell me, Glock, have any young men been staring up into her window while I've been out?"

"No sir, not one."

"Good. Then I still have more time." The judge smiled to himself. Glock frowned.

"More time for what, my lord?" He questioned. The judge turned to him with that same smile.

"More time for me to send that barber off to Australia. Then I can concentrate on keeping that sailor away from Jasmine." He explained. "And then once I have found a way to dispose of the boy, I can leave this place."

"Of course, sir, but how are you going to get rid of the boy?"

"Turpin managed to send Benjamin Barker away though he'd done no wrong. I'm sure I can do the same." The smile on the judge's face had changed now. It was malicious and devious, and Glock had to look away from it.

"Isn't that a little… harsh?" He asked quietly. The judge rounded on him and glared at him. Glock immediately wilted beneath that icy stare.

"Harsh? Would you like me to demonstrate 'harsh', Glock?" He hissed.

"No, my lord. Please forgive my outburst." Glock whispered. He did not like this man at all. This man was cold and unforgiving.

"I will, for now. But speak out like that again and you may meet your end by my hands, instead of by that barber's." The judge warned.

Upstairs, Jasmine had her ear to the floor of her bedroom, and was using her unique sense of hearing to listen to their conversation. She felt bad for Glock, but she was also worried about whoever this sailor was going to be. If he showed up at the wrong time, he'd be done for.

She was growing even more curious about this barber, however. Clearly the Beadle had died by the hands of the previous barber, and thus the judge was threatening Glock with the same fate. But who _was_ he?

Johanna had given her a good description of him, so she'd know who he was if she met him out on the street. But since she was confined to the house, that wouldn't happen. In fact, she wouldn't see him unless this Anthony boy took her to the place he worked.

She was also determined to discover who Johanna's parents had been. The girl had been taken from her mother when she was only a baby, and she had never really known her father. All that she remembered of him was a blurry image of his face, and that wasn't nearly enough to recognize him by.

Jasmine knew what it was like to not remember her father, so she was going to do whatever she could to find out who Johanna's father was, and hopefully find out what happened to her mother.

Back downstairs, the judge had calmed down and was sat with the Beadle in one of the rooms full of adult books.

"Glock, I need you to do something for me." The judge said suddenly. Glock looked up from his book, curious.

"And what may that be, my lord?" He inquired.

"This barber, Sweeney Barda. I want you to find out all you can about him. See if he has any history of crime that I can pick up on. Anything that can clear the way to his imprisonment. Or his death. Either would be perfect." He ordered. Glock nodded.

"All that I know of him now, sir, is that his establishment is in Fleet Street. Number 186, above Mrs Lovett's meat pie emporium."

"Investigate her, too. I want to know everything about him and anyone associated with him." The judge smiled that malicious smile once again. "I will find a way to dispose of him before he can ruin everything."

"My lord?"

"What is it, Glock?" The judge sighed, getting frustrated.

"Perhaps you should wait for him to do something serious, so you can be sure he will be locked away or sentenced to death." Glock suggested. He immediately regretted it.

"Fool! Do you think he will be that stupid? He won't do anything serious! At least, nothing that will be obvious." He barked. "And besides, I'm already one of the best judges there are. If I say he's done something wrong, no one is going to argue with me, and he will be sent away. For life, hopefully."

Glock watched the judge work out his plan and sighed. He looked up at the ceiling, wondering how Jasmine was doing. He didn't like where any of this was going. He would go and see the barber tomorrow, and if he could, warn him of the judge.

No, the judge would find out. Perhaps the barber would take a subtle hint. If he was a clever man, he'd know to stay out of trouble and keep a low profile. Then again, if the judge wanted something, he usually got it.

Glock resolved that even if he found something interesting at the barber's the next day, he would try and keep it to himself. The Beadle may have been the judge's friend, but it didn't mean that _he_ had to do everything how the Beadle had done it.

Oh yes, he was going to do all he could to help Jasmine and the young sailor, too.

* * *

_Author's Note: I wanted to write a chapter that didn't focus on Sweeney Barda and Lindal Lovett, and so I decided to try and get a view from Jasmine (Johanna), the Beadle Glock and the judge (identity to be revealed later on in the story :P). Hope you liked it!_


	6. Chapter 5: Investigations

**Chapter 5: Investigations**

Early the next morning, the Beadle Glock set out for Fleet Street with the intention of checking out the new residents of number 186. He knew that he wouldn't report anything back to the judge, but he was at least going to take a look around. After all, if it was indeed a simple, respectable business, he might be tempted to have a quick shave himself.

He rounded the corner and spotted the building instantly. Compared to previous descriptions of the place, it was certainly a lot different. It actually looked clean, neat and tidy. It was freshly painted and repaired, with new signs and clean windows. He crossed the street and peered in one of the windows, and instantly spotted the young woman who was known as Mrs Lovett. He opened the door beside him and walked in.

"A customer!" She gasped as she saw him. "Did you come in for a pie, sir?" Glock held up a hand to say no, and she eyed him curiously. "It's the Beadle, isn't it?"

"Why, yes ma'am. How did you know?" He asked suspiciously. She shrugged.

"Just common gossip, sir. What can I do fer you today then?" Glock smiled.

"As the Beadle, it is my duty to inspect all new businesses to make sure nobody is running any scams." He explained. "But first let me introduce myself properly. My name is Beadle Glock."

"Lindal Lovett, sir." Recognition flashed in Glock's eyes. He hadn't known it was her since he was not used to seeing her with that mass of unruly dark auburn hair. Glancing into those chocolate brown eyes, he knew that she had recognized him, too.

"Well, Mrs Lovett, I see you have a nice place here. People seem to like your pies, too." Glock said, walking around the shop. He was trying to ignore the fact that he knew this woman. "Pray, tell me, how you came to London?" Lindal went to reply but stopped. If she said something different to Barda…

"We came by boat, sir." A new voice said. They both turned to look at the doorway that led to the parlour upstairs, and saw Barda leaning against the doorframe. Glock couldn't stop his eyes from widening as he recognized him. "Our original ferry was involved in a terrible accident. Another boat – the HMS Bountiful – picked us up from the water."

"I see." Glock murmured. He had expected as much. Hadn't the Beadle told him that Sweeney Todd had arrived by boat?

"What are you doing here, sir? There is no pie waiting for you, nor do you seem to need a shave." Barda went on. "If it is not a matter of business, what brings you to our residence?"

"As I have informed this lovely lady here, it is my duty to inspect new businesses." He told Barda. "I am simply taking a look around."

"Then perhaps you ought to do it quickly. You may scare off any customers." Barda turned and left, walking back up to his parlour. Glock stared at the door that was now swinging shut behind him.

"He's a little… moody, isn't he?" Glock said to Lindal.

"He's just a bit fed up, that's all." Lindal smiled, taking a cloth and wiping her worktable down. "With all these suspicions floating around. All he wants to do is bring honour back to his family's name. His ole brother is certainly making that difficult."

"Brother?" Glock raised both eyebrows. Lindal frowned.

"I'd have thought you'd have been told, sir, that Mr Barda is the younger brother of Mr Todd. T'is why we came here, sir. I'm a relation to Nellie Lovett, y'see, and we found out about the deaths of our family members, and came down to mourn them. When we discovered what had happened to them, all the details, y'know, we decided to try and restore our names." Lindal explained. Glock took all of this in, amazed at all the elaborate details of their story.

"That's very interesting. So, tell me, Mrs Lovett, what meat do you use for your pies?"

"Only the finest pork and veal sir. Straight from the butcher's hands." She smiled.

"Not that I doubt you for a moment, ma'am, but I shall need to look at your bake house." Glock went on. Lindal nodded and motioned for him to follow her. Glock did so, and she led him to the door that would take them down to the bake house.

Upstairs, Barda was pacing back and forth in his parlour, grasping one of the razors in one hand. Sweeney Todd sat in the chair, watching him, amused.

_**Keep pacing and you'll wear out the floor.**_

"You didn't." Barda shot back. "What is _he_ doing here?" He hissed.

_**You know him?**_

"He comes from my world, too. But… he's supposed to be dead."

_**I know. I killed the Beadle, remember?**_

"No! Glock… he died, a long time ago. Why is he here?"

_**Strange things happen when you involve an alternate universe.**_

"You don't say." Barda scowled at the floor. "This is going to be tough. I mean… you said it yourself, you killed the Beadle. I'm guessing that means I have to kill the Beadle too."

_**But the Beadle Glock is an old friend of yours, right?**_

"Something like that." Barda murmured.

_**Well if he's already dead back where you came from, I don't see any point in sending him back dead too.**_

"You don't understand. It's not as simple as that, it's-," He broke off as he heard footfalls on the bottom of the stairs. "Here he comes." Sure enough, moments later, the Beadle Glock opened the door to the parlour.

"Excuse me if you will sir, but I need to inspect your parlour." Glock said with a smile.

"Alright." Barda muttered. He stole a glance at the chair and wished he'd covered the pedals with something. If he wanted to inspect the chair…

"Nice to see you've tried to brighten up the room." Glock said, observing the vase of gillyflowers and daisies. "Though I must say it is still rather dark and dreary in here."

"The world cannot be perfect, sir." Barda said quietly, eyes fixed on Glock.

"True, true." Glock found the box of razors and he went to pick one up, but Barda strode over and stopped him by grabbing onto his wrist. Glock frowned at him.

"I let no one touch my razors. They are of the finest quality silver, sir, and I would not relish them being damaged." Barda muttered, eyes narrowed.

"I can understand that, sir." Glock retracted his hand, and Barda let go of his wrist. Glock wandered around the room casually. "Mrs Lovett tells me you're the younger brother to Mr Sweeney Todd."

"Then she has told you correct, sir." Barda replied, watching Glock carefully.

"Were you aware that your brother was insane?" Barda's fists clenched.

"My brother was not insane, sir." He growled. "He had a rightful cause for what he did. If you were in his position, no doubt you'd have done the same." Glock turned to him, surprised. "I wish you to leave, sir. No one insults my brother under my roof."

"Very well then, sir. I do apologise for my mistake. But if you feel that strongly about it, I shall leave you then." Glock turned and strode to the door. Barda watched him go with a snarl on his face.

_**Perhaps now it seems easier to think that you shall have to kill him.**_

"Perhaps." Barda muttered.

_**And perhaps I should be honoured that you stood up for my cause.**_

"Perhaps."

_**And Mrs Lovett thought **_**I **_**had social issues.**_

Barda didn't respond. He stood in the large window, staring down at the streets of London. He could see Glock walking away towards what he supposed was the judge's house. Although he had gotten angry with him, Barda doubted he'd be able to kill Glock when the time came. After all, dead or not, Glock had still been a friend.

_**Getting lost in thoughts is my thing. Find your own.**_

"Were you always this annoying or is it just for my benefit?"

_**Possibly the latter.**_

"Oh, joy. I feel so special."

_**You're sure in a bad mood today.**_

"Says the guy with the moody disposition."

… _**Thank you for pointing that out.**_

"You're welcome." Barda opened up the razor to distract himself, but he scowled when he spotted Todd's reflection behind him. "Go away."

_**That's not very nice.**_

"I don't need you hovering over me every waking moment." He snapped the razor shut and threw it down onto the cabinet. The metal clashed harshly with the vanity mirror.

_**It's not nice to throw other people's things around like that.**_

"It's also not nice to slit people's throats, but you managed that just fine."

_**Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.**_

"Somebody didn't sleep at all last night because _someone_ wouldn't stop pestering me."

_**Well perhaps you should tell that wife of yours that you want to be left alone.**_

"I meant you."

_**I know. I was simply giving you an option to change your mind.**_

Once again, Barda ignored Todd and paced around the room. He could hear Lindal moving around in the pie shop below. He wondered when the real story would begin to unfold. He wanted to go home.

_**Am I not good company?**_

"Stop reading my thoughts."

_**Stop thinking them, then.**_

"You know, I'm starting to wonder what would happen if I was to slit my own throat." Barda scowled. "Would that make you go away?"

_**I think I resent your thoughts, Barda.**_

"I don't care what you think."

_**Oh I think you do.**_

"Do not."

_**Do too.**_

"Oh just leave me alone." Barda collapsed into the chair and sighed. There was silence for a moment. "Step on that pedal and regret it, Todd."

_**Would I do a thing like that?**_

"I'm going to pretend that question didn't exist." Barda frowned. He didn't know why he was in such a bad mood – or why Mr Todd was determined to annoy him to no end.

_**I think someone needs to relax.**_

"Mm." Barda murmured. There were footsteps on the stairs outside, and Lindal strolled into the parlour.

"You alright, love?" She asked Barda, who turned to look at her.

"Perhaps." He sighed. "I'd be better if _he_ wasn't pestering me." Lindal laughed.

"You're gonna have to live with it, love. He'll be there till the end."

"Well that's certainly given me a reason to be happy." Barda rolled his eyes.

_**I don't like this Barda.**_

"I don't like you." Barda shot back. "At all."

_**Now, now. That's a lie.**_

"Don't push it." Lindal watched the interaction with a smile. Though she had to admit, anyone listening in to the conversation would simply hear Barda talking to himself.

_You're sounding a touch mad, love._

"Please, don't you start too." Barda groaned. "I have enough to deal with."

_Come on, Mr T. Let's find something to occupy ourselves with._

_**But I was having fun.**_

"And I'm not. Go on, bugger off."

_**Tch. How rude.**_

"I'll show you rude." Barda threatened. Lindal couldn't help but laugh. She was comparing the behaviour between Barda and Todd with the behaviour between her twin boys when they were fighting. There wasn't all that much different between the two.

_You two are starting to seem like real brothers._

"Oh, fantastic." Barda muttered sarcastically.

_**Fine. I can see where I'm not wanted.**_

Mr Todd was smirking as he and Mrs Lovett left the parlour, leaving Lindal and Barda alone.

"Oh finally." Barda sighed.

"You not in the best of moods today, love?" Lindal asked, walking over to him.

"I guess not. Glock showing up probably didn't help."

"He recognized us, you know." Lindal told him, running her hand through his hair absentmindedly. "This is going to be tough, isn't it?" Barda closed his eyes and sighed again, leaning his head into her touch.

"I think it will be." He murmured. "I wonder who the judge is going to be?"

"Hopefully someone bad. Someone we hate." She replied, gently stroking his white streak.

"Mmm." Barda was in a better mood now. Lindal had that effect on him. A single moment alone with her could calm him down, even at the worst of times. Outside, Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett watched them. Mrs Lovett was wishing she could have been like that with Mr Todd, so open and caring… but Mr Todd wouldn't notice her.

Mr Todd, however, was amazed at how Barda could go from sniping at him one minute, to being calm and relaxed the next. He knew it was the wonders of love that did it. He remembered being like that with his Lucy. For the first time in many years, a genuine smile crept onto Todd's face. Barda looked truly happy with Lindal.

_It's nice isn't it?_

_**Hmm?**_

_Seeing them together like that. They need each other to be happy._

_**Mm.**_

_You're thinking about Lucy, aren't you?_

_**What does it matter?**_

_Nothing. I was just wondering, is all. _

There was a long silence between them. Neither could take their eyes off the couple in the parlour. Both seemed so relaxed, and for a moment they could get away from the horror they'd been thrown into out of nowhere.

_They're just like you and Lucy, aren't they? Especially with that pretty daughter of theirs._

Sweeney Todd didn't respond, but in his head he was agreeing with Mrs Lovett. When he looked at Barda and Lindal, he saw Benjamin and Lucy, all those years ago.

* * *

_Author's Note: Just a quick chapter to show that life isn't all smiles for Barda. Plus I think him arguing with Todd is simply amusing. They would tend to get on each other's nerves, I think._


	7. Chapter 6: The Beggar

**Chapter 6: The Beggar**

Barda was still sat in the barber's chair, staring at his shattered reflection in the broken mirror, when Sweeney Todd returned.

_**You have a customer.**_

Barda stood up and brushed himself down. He walked over to where the razors were kept in their box, and waited for the gentleman to arrive in the parlour. After a moment, he heard footsteps at the top of the stairs and there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in." He called, and the door opened. Barda turned and smiled at the gentleman walking in. "Good morning, sir. What may I do for you today?" He motioned at the chair, still smiling.

Downstairs, Lindal glanced up at the ceiling as she heard footsteps above. She hadn't realized that Barda had a customer. She smiled as she turned to the small oven that would keep pies warm and set a fresh batch on the top shelf. Turning back to her workbench, she ran a damp cloth over it and sighed. She had yet to receive any customers.

Just as she had reminded herself of her lack of business, the door opened and a woman walked in. She was dressed in tattered clothes and was clearly poor. She had a dirty hat on, covering her grimy hair. Lindal grimaced at the sight of her.

"Go on your way, we don't give to beggars." She said quickly, before she came any closer. The woman looked up at her with bright blue eyes.

"Please, ma'am, it is not your money I come for." She said in a hoarse voice. Lindal frowned. Beside her, Mrs Lovett gasped. Lindal shot her a quick glance, silently asking what was wrong.

_This is the beggar woman. This is Lucy!_

Lindal's eyes widened. She looked at the beggar woman again with new eyes. So… this was Sweeney Todd's wife? The woman that Mrs Lovett had been so jealous of?

"Then what is it you come for?" Lindal demanded. She didn't care if she sounded harsh.

"That man upstairs." Lucy rasped. Lindal instantly tensed up. "I think I know him."

"I'm sure you don't." The words came out before she could stop them. She guessed that it was the Mrs Lovett inside of her. Lindal was trying to see if she could recognize who was in place of Lucy, but her face wasn't familiar at all.

"Something tells me I do, ma'am…" Lucy went on. Before Lindal could respond further, she spotted Barda's customer walking down the stairs, Barda in tow. Barda pointed down one end of the street, and the man smiled and nodded before walking in that direction. With a simple nod, Barda turned and walked into the pie shop.

_Oh no, this could be bad! Get her out!_

But on a closer inspection, it was revealed that Sweeney Todd hadn't followed Barda down to the pie shop. Barda set eyes on the beggar and frowned.

"Giving to beggars are we, Mrs Lovett?" He inquired. Lindal shook her head, but it was the beggar that spoke.

"No, sir." She muttered, edging closer to him. Barda took a step back, still frowning.

"Then why are you here?"

_The same attitude he used with her when he…_

Mrs Lovett trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Lucy stared up into Barda's face and smiled slightly.

"I _do_ know you, mister!"

"Who are you?" Barda demanded.

_Get her out!_

"She's just a beggar, Mr Barda. Now I told you, go on your way!" Lindal hissed, nudging Lucy towards the door. She pushed her onto the street outside and closed the door behind her forcefully. The beggar remained at the window, however, eyes wide.

"Mister… Barda?" She whispered to herself. She couldn't believe it.

Inside, Barda turned to Lindal with a suspicious frown.

"Who was that, Lindal?" He demanded. She was surprised at his tone of voice. He'd never spoken to her like that before.

"I told you, just a beggar." She shrugged. Barda marched over there and turned her to face him.

"Then why were you so hasty to get her out?" He asked quietly. His tone was harsh.

"Because… I don't want customers to think we allow people like her in the shop." She lied. But she was always terrible at lying to Barda. He always saw right through her. Then she frowned. "Why does it matter?" Then it hit her. "Did you… recognize her?"

"I… I don't know." Barda murmured, his mood immediately changing. "It was… her eyes. They seemed familiar."

"But you can't think who she reminds you of?" He shook his head and she put a hand on his shoulder. His mood swings were clearly a trait that had belonged to Todd, and so it technically wasn't his fault if he snapped at her. He'd never done it before, after all.

"No. It's like… my mind is drawing a blank." He shook his head again, viciously now, and sighed in frustration. Lindal led him to a table and eased him into a chair. Then she went and retrieved the bottle of gin she had discovered in the living room. She grabbed a small glass and poured some gin into it, before passing it to him.

"There, drink that down." She said, sitting opposite him. He eyed it and raised an eyebrow.

"Gin?" He questioned. She rolled her eyes.

"Just drink it." He lifted it and took a sip. It burnt the back of his throat and tasted vile, but he swallowed it. Lindal smirked at the grimace on his face. "Tasty?"

"Eugh. No." He muttered. "But I guess it'll have to do." He took another sip to prove his point. "I don't know how Todd put up with this stuff."

_He didn't really mind it._

Both had temporarily forgotten that Mrs Lovett was still there. She was standing beside them, hands on her hips.

"You!" Barda muttered, in another mood swing. "You know who that beggar woman was, don't you? Tell me!" He growled, standing up. One hand instantly went to the razors in the pouch attached to his belt.

_**Threatening women now? Tch, honestly Barda.**_

Sweeney Todd had walked into the pie shop now, and was leaning against the doorframe that took you up to the parlour.

"Least I don't hold razors to their throats and throw them around my parlour." Barda shot back. Todd raised his eyebrows.

_**And I thought your mood had cleared up.**_

"You have that effect on me." He murmured, frowning. "Now tell me who that beggar was!" He demanded of Mrs Lovett.

_**Beggar woman? Did she have yellow hair?**_

Barda turned and raised an eyebrow at him. His hand lowered from the razors, and he seemed to calm down slightly.

"Yes, she had _blonde_ hair." He told him, emphasising on the blonde part.

_**That was Lucy, then.**_

"Lucy? Your wife?"

_**Yes.**_

"So that's why you wanted her to leave." Barda murmured, looking at Lindal. She nodded with a faint smile. There was the sound of a door being closed, and they all turned to look at where Todd had been standing. Now the door was closed and there was no sign of him.

_I'll go and see if he's okay._

They watched Mrs Lovett go up the parlour. And they were alone once again.

"Barda…" Lindal began. She had something she wanted to say to him. "I'm getting worried about you." She confessed. Barda raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why? I'm fine." He told her. She stood up and put a hand on his arm.

"No, you're not." She sighed. "You've changed, Barda. Now I don't know whether it's just the Sweeney Todd in you, or this is an actual change but… I don't like this new you."

"New me? Lindal I haven't changed!" He snapped. And then, in that instant, he knew what she was talking about.

"See? You've never snapped at me before. Now it's happening often." She lowered her eyes to the floor and sighed again. "I don't want you to change Barda. I like who you are." She lifted her eyes to meet his. "This isn't the man that I…" She trailed off, embarrassed. "Fell in love with." She muttered quietly. That simple sentence brought a smile to Barda's face.

"Lindal." He waited until he had her full attention. "I'm not going to change. It's just because of that man. Once this is over, everything will be back to normal, I promise."

"You swear?" She asked. He nodded.

"I swear." And, with a quick glance around to see if nobody was watching, he leant down and kissed her cheek. She smiled instantly.

"Alright." She was happy now. She didn't want to lose the Barda she'd married.

* * *

Later on that day, Lindal closed the shop just before dinner so she could go down and fetch the pies ready for the rush. Whilst she was out of the shop, the beggar woman returned. She walked briskly around to the wooden stairs that led up to the tonsorial parlour. There hadn't been any gentlemen going up there, so she naturally assumed that the place would be empty except for Sweeney Barda. Slowly, she began to ascend the stairs.

Inside, Barda heard the footsteps and smiled, instantly preparing for the next customer. When the door was pushed open, he turned, ready to greet the gentleman wanting a shave. However, he got a big shock when he saw that the beggar woman was standing in the doorway. Behind him, Sweeney Todd caught his breath.

_**Lucy…**_

"Madam? Is everything alright?" Barda asked her. Now he knew who she was to Todd, he was determined to find out who she reminded him of.

"Oh, yes mister…"

_**She doesn't talk like one who is mad.**_

Barda noted that. Perhaps whoever had been put in her place had not been affected by the arsenic Lucy had taken.

"I was trying to tell that lady downstairs, sir." She went on. "I… I know you."

"You do?" Barda frowned. Did she know him personally, or just Sweeney Todd?

"Aye, sir." She smiled. "You look like that Mr Todd who was here before." Barda's heart sank slightly. So it was just Mr Todd she recognized. "But that's not what I meant."

_**She knows **_**you**

"I know _you_, mister." Her smiled widened. "Barda, isn't it? Or should I say… Sweeney Barda?" Now her voice rang bells in his mind. Where had he heard that voice before? "You don't recognize me do you?" There was sadness in her voice now, and he suddenly felt bad. But then she seemed to brighten up. "Well I can't say I blame you. It's this hair…"

_**She's not naturally blonde, Barda. Think it through.**_

Barda studied her, but he still couldn't put a name to the face. It was starting to frustrate him. It was her eyes that he had recognized most.

_**That's it, concentrate on her eyes. It's all in the eyes.**_

Though he was surprised at the helpfulness of Todd, Barda shrugged it off and searched in her eyes for something he could recognize. And then it hit him. Her eyes were the exact same colour as his own. And that could only mean…

"Oh god…" His legs gave out from beneath him and he crumpled to the floor, not believing what he had just discovered. The beggar woman crouched down, trying to look into his face. There were footsteps on the stairs and Lindal rushed into the parlour.

"I heard a thump, are you okay?" She spotted Barda on the floor and crossed to him, Mrs Lovett in tow. Her eyes were on Lucy, and she stole a glance at Todd, who was looking between Barda and Lucy, mildly confused.

_**Who is she Barda? Who could possibly reduce you to this?**_

Barda was having trouble speaking. He just couldn't seem to form the words he wanted to say. The beggar woman smiled.

"You recognize me now, don't you?" She murmured. Barda simply nodded, still too stunned to speak. Lindal frowned.

"What? Who are you?" She demanded. The beggar woman looked up at Lindal with that same smile.

"Has he not told you of me?" She asked quietly, in a soothing voice that Barda knew all too well. "You are close to him, I know. I've seen how you are around each other, and it is clear of your affections for each other. I'm glad. My boy has found someone to care for at last." Lindal frowned.

_What did she just call him? Her boy?_

Lindal's eyes widened. She stared into those blue eyes and gasped. They were the exact shade of Barda's.

"So he has told you." The beggar turned back to Barda, who had lifted his head and was staring at her, amazed and shocked.

_**Who IS she?!**_

Todd was getting frustrated with all this silence. He had tried to read Barda's thoughts, but he had developed some kind of emotional block, and he couldn't get in. Mrs Lovett, however, was having better luck. She was able to read Lindal's thoughts easy, and she knew the moment Lindal did.

_My, my… this woman is…_

"Mother…" Barda whispered at last.

_**Your mother?!**_

_What's so shocking about that?_

Lindal realized that Mrs Lovett and Mr Todd knew next to nothing about either her or Barda. To them, this revelation was normal. Barda swallowed hard and found his voice again.

"But… you're supposed to be… d-dead…" He couldn't get his voice higher than a whisper.

_**Ah… I sense a touching moment. I'll leave now.**_

_I'll join you._

They left Barda and Lindal with the beggar woman – Min – knowing that this was a personal thing.

"I've longed to be with you again, my boy." Min smiled, putting a hand on Barda's cheek. "And now I can be, at least for a little while." Lindal put an arm around Barda, and he leant into her. Min watched them with joy. Her boy had found love at last.

* * *

_Author's Note: This is the first of many twists to come. Lucy was originally going to be Anna, Jasmine's mother, but a friend - whilst a guessing game to find out who Lucy was - suggested Min, Barda's mother, and I just couldn't let that idea go._


	8. Chapter 7: The Apprentice

**Chapter 7: The Apprentice**

Anthony wandered through the streets of London, amazed. He'd never been to London before, and so everything was new to him. He'd often thought about going back to the barber on Fleet Street, even though he was mildly annoyed at him. Something told him that the barber knew much more about London than he did – that he had been here before.

He turned the corner and realized he was in Fleet Market. He smiled – he'd always enjoyed city markets. He loved the noise and energy that came with them. He was glad, however, that he had left his bag at the inn he was staying at. Thieves were aplenty in markets such as these.

He wandered around the stalls, not really looking to buy anything but just being interested in what the people were selling. Stallholders yelled out their wares to the people passing by in the hopes that they would come and purchase something. Anthony had to wave off a few stubborn sellers who were pushing their produce right under his nose.

He caught a glimpse of a large stand in the corner of his eye and he turned to look in that direction. A couple of men were erecting what appeared to be another stall, though much different to all the others. It had a large platform, and a curtained off section behind it. Above the curtain was a large sign, advertising what the stall was about. Curious, Anthony walked over. A young boy was directing the men, shouting orders in a surprisingly strong voice. Anthony walked over to him.

"Excuse me, young sir." He said politely. The boy turned.

"What?" Ignoring the blunt rudeness of his reply, Anthony motioned to the platform.

"What stall is this?" He inquired. The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Can't you read?" He pointed at the sign above the curtain, and Anthony looked up at it. It read: Ranesho Pirelli, King of the Barbers, Barber of Kings.

"A barber? Why doesn't he have his own establishment?" Anthony wondered aloud. The boy scowled.

"What's it to you?" He demanded. Anthony raised his eyebrows.

"I'm… sorry. I just… I know someone who is a barber y'see, and he has his own establishment…"

"Well why don't you go on your way to him, if you're just gonna insult my master." The boy hissed. Anthony was mildly surprised.

"Your… master?" The boy nodded.

"Aye. Got me from the workhouse." He murmured, telling the lie he'd told everyone else. "Been there since I was born." He shrugged. "So who's this barber you talking about?"

"Oh! His name is Sweeney Barda. He's over on Fleet Street." Anthony smiled. The boy's eyes widened.

"Him?" He gasped. "I gots to tell Pirelli." He turned to go, but then stopped. "Ere, what's your name?"

"Anthony." He replied. "Why?"

"Eh, no reason." The boy shrugged. He turned to leave once again.

"Hey, wait!" He stopped. "What's your name?" He seemed to hesitate, but then shrugged again.

"Josef. Josef Ragg." With that said, he turned and scampered off into the crowd. Anthony watched him go, mildly confused. Why was the name Ragg familiar to him? More to the point, he knew the name Josef too… Frowning, he turned and stared up at the sign once again. Ranesho? There was no way this was a coincidence…

"Perhaps I should tell Sweeney that he has a competitor." Anthony muttered to himself. Turning, he left the market.

* * *

Barda was sat in the living room, a tankard of ale in one hand. He hadn't spoken for a good while now. Lucy – now known as Min – had gone on her way, saying it would be wrong for her to stay within their residence, but had promised that she would come back often. Lindal sat opposite Barda, watching him closely. He hadn't believed it was actually his mother until very recently.

He had reasoned with himself that it _was_ possible. After all, wasn't Glock back too? He'd been dead for some time and yet he had been here only that morning. He did not want to think about how they had both come back. Both of them should be dead, and yet he had spoken to both of them.

"Barda?" He looked up from the floor and glanced at Lindal. She looked worried.

"I'm okay." He reassured her, though he was reassuring himself more. "I just… need time to settle." She understood what he meant, and got up to leave. He needed to be alone.

She was rather shocked herself. Barda had told her everything about his mother, and she'd always wished she could have met her. She had never expected that she'd actually get that chance.

_How is he?_

"Still shaken." Lindal sighed. Mrs Lovett's sudden appearances no longer surprised her. She'd gotten used to them now.

_Poor thing. It must be hard on him._

"Nellie?" Lindal had taken to calling Mrs Lovett by her first name now.

_What's on your mind?_

"Is he going to have to… kill her?" She whispered the last part, afraid that Barda might overhear her.

_I don't know. If Mr T has any say in it, I don't think so. But you never know what might happen._

"I think that might destroy him." She admitted. "He wouldn't be able to do it."

_Try not to think about it. He sees right through you. If you think about something like that, he'll know about it._

"Yeah, you're right." She busied herself with rolling out some more pastry – something she had never done before now, and so was surprised at her skill of it. She had Mrs Lovett to thank for it, though. It was _her_ skill that was making the pies, after all.

Barda emerged from the living room, carrying an empty tankard. He went straight to the dispenser behind Lindal and filled it back up again. Lindal raised an eyebrow.

"You want to take it easy." She said to him. "Don't want you slitting throats by accident because you've had too much to drink." Her comment had the desired effect – he smiled slightly.

"I think I'll close up for the day." He murmured. Lindal frowned and put her hands on her hips.

"Oh no you don't mister. We need to keep the money coming in. I'll give you another five minutes before you're back up there and shaving faces." She ordered. His smile widened.

"Alright." He'd never admit it to anyone, but he missed how she'd always order him around when they were at home. He downed his ale and washed up the tankard ready for use when Lindal opened the pie shop for dinner. Then he made his way up to his parlour. Lindal watched him go with a sigh.

"He has changed." She murmured. "And I don't like it."

_Men change, dearie. Just look at Benjamin Barker. He changed into Mr Todd._

"Yes, I know." Lindal frowned. "But I don't want Barda to become Mr Todd. I want to keep him as my Benjamin." Mrs Lovett smiled sadly at her. She had seen the change too. It was hard not to notice it, really.

* * *

Josef knocked upon the apartment door where he and Pirelli lived. He hadn't been allowed a key to the door because Pirelli didn't want him snooping around where he wasn't supposed to. After another persistent knock, Pirelli opened up.

"What is it, boy?" He demanded. "Why aren't you building my stand?"

"It is finished, sir." Josef said quickly. "But I have news!"

"What news?" Pirelli opened the door wider so Josef could slip into the apartment.

"Earlier, your stand was compared to the establishment of Mr Sweeney Barda, and found wanting." Josef told him. Pirelli slammed the door shut.

"What?" He hissed. "Who was comparing?"

"His name was Anthony, sir. I think he is a friend of Mr Barda." Josef frowned. "He did not say he was, but something tells me he is…"

"So, Mr Barda is sending out spies to check on me?" Pirelli murmured.

"I don't think so, sir." Pirelli turned on him and struck him a blow to the face.

"I don't care what you think, boy." He snapped. "If I say he is sending out spies, then that is what he is doing, understand?"

"Yes, sir." Josef whimpered. He didn't understand why Ranesho was being so mean to him. Before they had arrived here, Ranesho – known more commonly as Ranesh – was always so kind to him. "What are you going to do now, sir?"

"I'll wait for him to show his face. We'll follow the game plan, d'ya hear? You go on out and sing your merry little song every day, and there will come a day when _he_ will try and make a fool of you." Pirelli smiled slightly. "And then I will show him that he cannot best Pirelli. How much of a fool will he look when I win our contest?"

"I'm guessing a big fool, sir." Josef said quietly.

"It was a rhetorical question, boy!" Pirelli yelled, causing Josef to flinch. "Now, all I have to do is wait. And then I'll be ready for him." He glared at Josef. "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Take my 'elixir' down to the stall and set everything up! We must begin at once."

"Yessir!" Josef cried, leaping away from Pirelli in case there was another beating heading his way. He picked up a large crate of glass bottles filled with a vile-smelling yellow liquid and struggled over to the door. He had to set it down to open the door, because Pirelli was standing in the window, choosing to ignore Josef's struggles. From here, he could see his new stand. Oh yes. It wouldn't be too long before Mr Barda would stand before that platform. And then he will put him to shame.

* * *

Min wandered the streets close to the house that had belonged to Judge Turpin. She knew from what Lucy had told her – mad though she was – that the judge was bound to have returned also. She knew, too, what the judge had done to poor Lucy. She kept an eye on the house, just in case she saw anything that could be of use to Barda and Lindal.

It was on her third round of walking past the house that she spotted the girl in the window. Johanna, Lucy would have called her. But Min knew it would not be her. She had the long blonde hair that Lucy had described, but her face was lightly tanned instead of pale, and her eyes – from what she could see – were green instead of blue. Two respectable adults walked past, a man and a woman, and they stopped to glance up at the girl in the window.

"Poor little thing, trapped inside that room." The woman murmured.

"I don't know why that judge keeps her locked away." The man replied.

"He says it's to keep her away from the evils of the world." The woman scoffed. "I doubt that very much. Isn't it awful strange that the previous judge had a pretty little blonde locked away, too?"

"Aye. People are suspicious of him." They both went on their way, thinking nothing of the beggar woman that had stopped to hear their conversation.

"Well then, the girl is definitely back." Min murmured to herself. She had no worry for doing this – after all, she was supposed to be a man beggar woman. People wouldn't find it at all surprising if she talked to herself all the time. "And clearly the judge. But who are they?"

No sooner had she spoken the words, the large doors opened and the judge and the beadle walked out. She inspected both their faces, and remembered that the beadle had already visited Barda and Lindal that morning, so they knew that he existed – and judging from their exchanged glances – knew who he was, too. And so, she concentrated on the judge.

His dark hair and tanned face were quite deceiving for his age. While his face spoke only of youth, his eyes were hardened with a lifetime of horrors the world had shown to him. And it was those eyes, so sharp and cold, that sparked recognition. From where though, she could not remember. For a moment she saw in her mind a man with dark, evil eyes, standing at the top of the stairs as she fell backwards into the black abyss beyond.

No. It could not be him. Surely, though it seemed even the dead could be brought back to life, that evil would not be brought into this world, too? She studied his face as he spoke with the beadle, listened hard to his voice. Anything she could recognize would help her son. Now that she had been reunited with him, she was going to do all she could for him.

And then it struck her with force. She knew who this man was. Turning, she hurried away – as best she could whilst pretending to be a starved beggar – and made for Fleet Street. She had to warn him, before it was too late.

She passed through Fleet Market on the way there, and nearly bumped into a young boy carrying a crate of bottles up to a platform in the center of the market.

"Sorry ma'am." He muttered quickly, hurrying up some steps and placing the crate down on a small table up on the platform. Min smiled at his politeness and carried on her way.

Meanwhile, Anthony was also on his way back to Fleet Street. He had stopped by the inn first for a meal, and then another sailor had struck up a conversation with him. He'd lost track of time, and when they had finally parted ways, he realized that he had quite forgotten about Josef Ragg and Pirelli.

He tried to remember the quickest way back to Fleet Street, but couldn't think of it, and so he traced his steps to the market, and went from there. He spotted Josef again, but the boy was busy arranging a fancy chair upon the platform and seemed to be hard at work, and so he decided not to disturb him again. He did notice, however, that Josef had a rather nasty red mark on one side of his face, and wondered how he'd been hurt.

He had a vague idea that Pirelli had something to do with it. He didn't sound like a particularly good man, and Josef always seemed to be running around for him. He imagined if Josef did something wrong he'd be hit or whipped for it. Anthony wondered if being with Pirelli was any different than being in the workhouse. He figured he'd never know, and so went on his way with Pirelli and his stand fresh on his mind.

* * *

Lindal sighed as she set more pies into the warm oven to keep them hot. There had been very few customers between lunch and now, and though she was thankful for the time off, she was rather bored with sitting around and doing pretty much nothing. The young lad Mark had come in an hour ago and eaten a few of her pies, remarking once again about how delicious they were and how glad he was that he'd tried them before.

He always made her smile. He was such a kind boy, and courageous too, since he was the first customer for both Barda and her. He had probably been terrified when sitting in that chair upstairs, and god knows what had been on his mind when he had picked up that first pie.

_He reminds me of that Anthony._

Lindal smiled at Mrs Lovett, who had clearly been reading her thoughts again.

"He sounded like a nice boy."

_He was. Desperately in love with Johanna though. Still, if it got her away from that Turpin, I suppose it was a good thing he was._

"Mm." Lindal agreed. "I wonder if he'll be back this time around?"

_He might not. So far, the only people who have returned are those who were killed back then. If he's not dead then he won't be coming back to join us._

"Does that mean Johanna won't be back either?"

_Most likely. That's probably a good thing. Means they're both safe n happy. Mr T would've wanted that for his girl._

"Yeah." She thought of Barda, and how he would do anything for his two daughters. "I suppose he would."

* * *

_Author's Note: So, everyone is rushing to Fleet Street, each with their own news. What will be the identity of the judge? How will Barda and Lindal react when they discover who he is? And what will Barda do about this Pirelli? Only two chapters left until the end of Book 1. Then in Book 2, the fun begins. - homesweethomicide13_


	9. Chapter 8: Gathered Information

**Chapter 8: Gathered Information**

Lindal was just preparing to open up for the dinner time rush when she spotted Min hovering by the side entrance door. Quickly, she walked over there and unlocked the door so she could come in. She glanced quickly up at the door to the parlour as Min walked inside. Was Barda with a customer? Should she call him down?

Deciding against it for the moment, she closed the door and made sure the sign read 'Closed'. Min was already sitting down.

"Not calling Barda?" She asked. Lindal smiled.

"I think he has a customer." She explained. Min nodded in understanding. "So, what brings you back so soon?"

"I have news." She murmured, keeping her voice low. "About the three in Turpin's house." Lindal's eyes widened.

"He needs to be here for this." She motioned for Min to stay put and made her way upstairs, hoping that he was alone. She peered in through the door and was grateful to see that he was indeed alone, and was standing by the window, staring out into the sky. She knocked on the door so as not to startle him by suddenly walking in, and she opened the door and stepped inside. "Your mother is downstairs. She has news to tell us." Instantly he was alert.

Downstairs, Min waited patiently for Lindal's return with Barda. She was listening to the footsteps above and knew they'd be down in a moment. Suddenly the side entrance door was flung open and a young man burst in. He saw Min sitting there and blinked in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am." He said politely. "I didn't know Mrs Lovett had company."

"Not to worry, young sir." Min smiled. "Mrs Lovett will be down in a moment. She's just fetching Mr Barda."

"Oh good, I needed to talk to him anyway." He sat down opposite Min. "My name is Anthony."

"Min Barker." She peered into his face for a moment. "You look familiar, son."

"Do I, ma'am?" Anthony asked, surprised. "Who do I remind you of?" Min smiled gently.

"Someone I once knew, very well." She said quietly. "A good honest man." Anthony returned her smile. There was silence for a moment, and then Lindal returned with Barda. She was surprised to see the young man sat opposite Min, but she didn't question it. "Ah, there you are. This young man has something to tell you, Mr Barda."

"Oh?" Barda asked, frowning slightly. "What is it, Anthony?" Barda sat down beside his mother, and Lindal sat down beside Anthony after locking the door once again.

"I was just wandering around Fleet Market to pass the time," Anthony began. "When I saw this young lad helping these men to build a new stall," He ran a hand through his hair, "and I spoke to the kid and he said it was for a barber, called Pirelli." Barda and Lindal exchanged glances. "And the kid got pretty annoyed when I mentioned your name," he looked at Barda pointedly, "and ran to tell his master."

_Ask him what the boy's name was!_

Mrs Lovett seemed desperate to hear about this boy, and so Lindal leant forward on the table.

"Did you get the boy's name?" She asked Anthony.

"Yes, I did." Anthony smiled. "He said his name was Josef Ragg. I can't help but wonder where I've heard that name before." Barda and Lindal shared another glance.

"I know the name Josef too." Min murmured. Barda smiled. Of course she would. After all, Josef was the librarian back when she lived in the palace. She didn't know of Marilen and Ranesh, and so she didn't know that Josef was also the name of their son. It seemed more likely that the young Josef would have been brought back to replace Toby, rather than the old Josef.

"So Pirelli is in town?" Barda asked. Anthony frowned.

"Do you know him, Mr Barda?"

"No, but I have heard of him." Barda said with a slight smile. "He's an Italian barber, come here for extra work. Though I have a funny feeling about him. I might have to go and check on him at some point."

"I thought I'd tell you about him, Mr Barda, because he could be a potential competitor." Anthony smiled.

"Thank you, Anthony." Barda returned the smile. "He may attract more customers than I. After all, he's not a relation to Sweeney Todd. People are still wary of this place."

"I knew I'd heard the name Sweeney before!" Anthony exclaimed. "Mr Todd! Of course!"

"You know him?" Barda inquired.

_**Careful.**_

Barda ignored Todd's warning. Anthony was concentrating hard, and it looked like he was searching in his mind for something.

"I knew someone who met him once. Heard of him, that's all." He said at last. Barda nodded. He looked at Min.

"Now, Mrs Barker, did you need to talk to us, also?" He asked with a smile. Before she could say anything, however, a man rapped on the window. Mrs Lovett stood up and unlocked the door.

"I'm closed for the moment, sir, if you wouldn't mind waiting?" She smiled.

"Actually I was hoping to catch Mr Barda." He replied, mirroring her smile. Barda stood up.

"Come for a shave, sir? I'm sure I can fit you in." He turned to Min. "Mrs Lovett will tell me everything you tell her." She nodded, and he led the man upstairs to the parlour. Lindal locked the door once again and sat down.

"Now, what news do you have for us?" Min stole a glance at Anthony. "Don't worry about this lad, he's a friend." She reassured her, and Min smiled again.

"I was down by the old judge Turpin's house, just on my rounds of the city," she began, "and I stopped to sit down on a bench for a moment." She paused. "And then I saw her. There was this pretty little thing sat in a window in the judge's house. Elegant, she was, with beautiful blonde hair. Not a natural blonde though, or at least, I don't think so."

"What makes you think that?" Anthony questioned.

"Well she didn't have fair skin, as most blondes do." Min explained. "No, she had tanned skin, very lightly tanned, but it was still too dark for a natural blonde."

"And she was in the old judge's house?" Lindal frowned. "That sounds vaguely familiar."

_It _has_ to be Johanna._

"Do you know what her name is?" Min shook her head.

"No, I just saw her in the window. Although, a couple walked past and started discussing her." Min remembered suddenly. "They said that the 'judge' keeps her locked away in that one room, saying he needs to protect her from 'the evils of the world'. Apparently the previous judge also had a little blonde girl locked away."

_Yep, that's Johanna alright. But what is she doing back? I thought only those who died were coming back…_

Slowly, Mrs Lovett's words sank in. Both she and Lindal felt an uneasy dread settle over them.

_And this lad is Anthony…_

"So there's a judge in that house again?" Lindal asked, quickly changing the subject before she thought about why both Anthony and Johanna were back. Min nodded.

"Yes, and he lives with the beadle." She told Lindal. "It's strange though. The couple I mentioned earlier said that people were getting suspicious of this new judge."

"Mr Barda isn't too fond of the Beadle Glock." Lindal muttered, remembering his anger after Glock had left.

"Oh yes, I remember you mentioning that he came here." Min smiled. "Was he not very nice?" Lindal realized that Min would never have met Glock before, so she didn't know that he had been a friend to them before he died in the caverns beneath Deltora.

"I think he insulted Mr Barda's brother." This made Min frown. She hadn't heard Barda's lie about his resemblance to Mr Todd, but she said nothing on it.

"I can understand why he would get angry then." Anthony cut in. "If someone insulted anyone in my family, I'd be angry."

"Yes, Mr Barda does seem the type to fight for his family." Min said wistfully. Lindal smiled. Barda had told her of all the times he'd been prepared to fight to the death when someone insulted his mother.

"Do you know anything about this judge then? Or why he has this girl locked away?" Anthony asked.

_He'll want to know about the girl, considering he has to rescue her from the judge._

"No, only that he is an extremely good judge. He's locked up many criminals already and he's very new to the town." Min told Anthony. Lindal was watching Anthony closely. His attitude to everything he'd heard was very practical and it reminded her of someone she knew. She was trying to figure out who he was.

"Hmm… I'm going to do some investigation. That poor girl shouldn't be locked away like that. It's just not fair." Anthony murmured. Lindal's eyes widened as she suddenly realized who he was. Anthony saw her expression change and stared at her, confused. "Mrs Lovett? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I am, it's just…" She trailed off, staring into Anthony's bright eyes. They were a pale shade of blue. Her eyes wandered up to his hair, and she saw that his roots were very light in colour. Suddenly it clicked in Anthony's mind.

"Ma'am… you recognize me, don't you?" He asked with a smile.

"Yes I do…" Lindal returned his smile. "And you recognize me. And Mr Barda."

"I've known who you were since I heard your names." Anthony grinned. "But Mr Barda doesn't seem to recognize me." Lindal saw his saddened expression and sighed.

"Don't you worry about him. He's not himself recently. I'm sure once we tell him, he'll recognize you." She reassured him.

"Good, because I'd hate to think that he's forgotten who I am." While Lindal could reassure Anthony that Barda would remember who he was, she wasn't so sure of it herself. After all, a lot had changed in him. It had taken a while for him to realize who Min had been, and she was his _mother_, not just his friend. Then again, he hadn't been expecting to see her at all.

"Oh, he won't have done." Lindal said with a smile that was partially forced. She glanced up at the ceiling. At least, she hoped he hadn't forgotten.

Upstairs, Barda was in the middle of shaving the man who had come to the door when he smiled.

"I must say, sir, your skill is definitely impressive." He said, touching the side of his face that had been shaved. "Nothing compared to that other barber."

"Other barber, sir?" Barda questioned.

"Yes, there's a barber in Fleet Market. He brags about being the king of the barbers."

_**Seems like Pirelli's started work, then.**_

"King of the barbers? That's a bit of a boast." Barda muttered.

"Yes, sir. He's not very good at it though. Average skill." The man told him. "A man I work with received a shave from him and was complaining about it all day. Then a young man mentioned he should have come here instead." Barda smiled.

"Was that young man's name Mark Ingestrie, by any chance?" He asked. The man he was shaving laughed.

"Know him, do you?"

"Aye. My first customer." Barda told him. "He promised he'd tell everyone he met about me."

"Well then it seems to me that he's kept that promise."

_**So long as it gets you business, it doesn't matter who he tells.**_

Barda agreed with Todd. He was glad that Mark had come to his parlour. The lad had a big heart and was very kind. It reminded him of his son Liam.

"I'm glad you decided to come here instead, sir." Barda said at last. "What was that barber's name?"

_**You know his name.**_

"Something Pirelli. I cannot remember his first name." The man shrugged.

"Pirelli, aye? Doesn't sound like a Londoner." Barda chuckled.

_**You're just amusing yourself now, aren't you?**_

"I think he said he was Italian, or something."

"Then what is he doing here? Is business not good in Italy?" The man laughed.

"Probably not. He's cheaper than you sir, so people are going to him."

_**Well that's not nice.**_

"Ah, that's not good." Barda muttered. He finished off the shave and the man got up and put his coat back on.

"Maybe, sir, but here we are paying for the quality." He smiled, stroking his smooth face. "You truly are incredible." Barda bowed slightly.

"I thank you, sir."

_**Oh you just love it, don't you?**_

"You are welcome, Mr Barda." The man paid the fee and left the parlour.

_**You love feeding your ego, don't you?**_

"What man does not?" Barda asked with a smile.

_**You and your bloody pride.**_

"You and your bloody revenge." Barda shot back.

"Haven't got anything to say to that, have you?" He laughed.

_**Shut it.**_

"Oh, finally, I have found something that you can't find a comeback to!"

_**You must be so proud of yourself.**_

"You're just annoyed that I've won this little battle of words."

_**You haven't won anything.**_

"Gasp! Do I sense… denial?" Barda laughed again. He was in a good mood, and for once, Mr Todd wasn't changing that. He did enjoy their bickering though. Made things interesting for him.

_**What's wrong with you today?**_

"Nothing. I'm in a good mood." Barda rolled his eyes. "I, unlike you, tend to smile and laugh during my life."

_**You're strange. One moment you're brooding, the next you're laughing. I half expect you to start dancing around and singing about flowers.**_

"Now who's in the bad mood?" Barda teased.

_**Quiet.**_

"Payback time!" He was getting ready to torture Todd for the next hour or two when he remembered that Min was still downstairs with news to tell. "Aww… I was looking forward to annoying you."

_**Revenge comes first.**_

"Yeah, yeah. I know. It always does with you." Still smirking, he locked up the parlour and went down to find out what the news was about.

* * *

_Author's Note: The end is near. As this book draws to a close, Sweeney Barda will learn the identity of both Anthony _and_ the judge..._


	10. Chapter 9: The Judge

**Chapter 9: The Judge**

When Barda left the parlour, he was surprised to see that no people were milling about downstairs. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he saw that the sign on the door read 'Closed', and the door was locked. There was no one in the shop at all. Confused, he took out his keys and unlocked the door. He walked into the shop, locking the door behind him, and walked through to the living room. There he found Lindal, Min and Anthony.

"Ah, there you are love." Lindal smiled. Barda quirked a brow at her. She was starting to sound like Mrs Lovett. "Was just going to come up and get you." He turned and glanced over his shoulder at the pie shop.

"What was wrong with out there?" He muttered in a low voice. Lindal frowned. He was starting to sound more like Mr Todd.

"People could see us. 'Sides I figured if there were people in the shop, the customers would wanna know why we're closed." She explained with a shrug. "And t'is more comfortable back here." She stood up and walked over to him, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him to another chair. "There, sit yeself down. Want some gin, love?" The only response was a grunt, which she took as a yes, and poured him a glass. He took a gulp of it, and she frowned again. This wasn't good. He hadn't complained about the taste.

_Drinking it like Mr T did._

"We were just discussing the judge." Lindal said, ignoring what Mrs Lovett had said because she did not want to admit that she was right. "And the girl he keeps locked away." This got his attention, and the attention of Todd.

_**Wait… if she's back then that means she's…**_

_Easy, love. Easy._

"Girl?" Barda questioned.

"Aye, pretty little blonde." Min smiled. "Anthony here is going to investigate further, see if he can find out her name." Barda glanced at Anthony, who looked hopeful, but when he looked away again, that hope died. Lindal noticed this and sighed.

"Barda." She said sharply. He looked up, surprised that she hadn't added 'mister' in front of it. "Take a good long look at Anthony." Confused, he did so.

"What am I looking for?" He murmured. Anthony bristled with frustration.

"How can you not see it?" He barked. Barda quirked an eyebrow again. "Do you not recognize me, Barda?" Barda took in the brunette hair and pale blue eyes and shook his head.

"He's a natural blonde, Barda." Lindal murmured behind him. "With light eyes and fair skin. He's twenty years younger than you."

"And he reminds me of Endon." Min added. Anthony turned to her with surprise. He still didn't know who this woman was, but she knew Endon? Barda's eyes widened when she mentioned Endon, and his gaze snapped back to Anthony. And then, he saw it.

"…Lief?" He asked in a hushed voice. Anthony nodded.

"Finally! I knew it was you from the moment I heard your name. I knew there was no chance it was only a coincidence that the new barber on Fleet Street shared the name of one of my closest friends." Lief sighed. "I was hoping you'd recognize me, or at least enquire about my full name. It's Anthony Lief, you see."

"I'm… sorry." Barda muttered. "I didn't recognize you at all until my mother mentioned that you are like Endon." Lief's eyes widened.

"Your… mother?" He turned to Min. Now that he looked, he could see the resemblance. "That's how you knew Endon!" Min smiled and nodded. "But… you're supposed to be…"

"You're in an alternate universe, Lief, and you find my mother's existence here more surprising?" Barda cut in quickly. "We are all well aware of my mother's position back home, as we are of Glock's."

"Glock… is he here too?" Lief asked, shocked.

"He is the Beadle." Lindal told him.

"Then… it must be them…" Lief muttered to himself. Noticing three pairs of confused eyes upon him, he smiled. "Ranesh is here, as is his son Josef."

"Surely this means that the girl and the judge are both from our world, too?" Lindal said quietly. "But who?" Now Min stood up.

"I know who the judge is." She said. Barda was suddenly alert.

"Who?" He asked quickly.

"Do not hold me to this. After all, it has been a long time since I've seen that face, and it was greatly different back then." She sighed, sitting down again. "I could quite easily be mistaken…"

"That does not matter. If you are, it will not be your fault." Barda smiled. "Who do you think it is?" He urged, sitting on the edge of the chair. He gripped the glass of gin tightly in one hand.

"The judge is…" She paused.

"Go on…"

"It's Jarred." She said at last. Barda, Lindal and Lief exchanged glances. Jarred? And then… Barda understood.

"Jarred!" He repeated, standing up quickly. "The man _we_ know as Doom!" Lindal and Lief gasped.

"Doom is the judge? Oh no…" Lindal sighed. "I was hoping it would be someone we didn't know, or didn't like. Someone like, like…"

"Like Prandine." Min finished for her. Barda's eyes darkened at the mention of his name.

"I wish it was Prandine." He muttered. Lindal watched him, worried for his mental state. He was becoming more and more like Sweeney Todd each moment. She was getting scared, wondering if he would forget that he _isn't_ Mr Todd.

_**Is the judge a friend of yours?**_

Now that it was clear both Min and Lief were friends, both of them heard Mr Todd's voice. And they could both see him, and Mrs Lovett. Barda sighed.

"The closest." He whispered. It was true. Despite the fact that they constantly bickered and fought, he and Doom were very close friends. Their bickering was just because they refused to admit to each other that they were close.

_**You need to kill him.**_

"I know." But it didn't mean he had to like it.

"Well surely you can't, Barda!" Lief exclaimed. "It's Doom!"

"I have to." Barda muttered. "If any of us ever want to get home, I have to." Min stood up now and walked over, looking into his face.

"Where has my son gone?" She whispered. It went deathly quiet in the room. She was frowning.

"What do you mean? I'm right here." Barda replied, confused. She shook her head slowly.

"No. This isn't my son." The words struck hard, and hurt crossed Barda's face. "My son would never have said that. My son would never have wanted to hurt someone close to him." She went on. "My son stood up for his friends, and wouldn't let anyone hurt them. If someone did, then that someone paid the price for it. The man standing in front of me isn't my son." She noticed the tears in Barda's eyes, but it had to be said, before he went too far. "When you find him again, you come and tell me." With that said, she left the room. Lief and Lindal exchanged glances before looking at Barda.

_**Ouch. That had to hurt.**_

It did. It hurt more than any physical strike. It all happened in one second – the tears slipped free and his legs gave out from beneath him. He crumpled to the floor, crying for the first time in many a year.

_Poor thing…_

Lindal rushed to him and put her arm around him. Words came to her instantly, and she murmured them to him.

"Easy now, hush love, hush…" Min stood in the doorway watching them. It had hurt her to say those things, but she didn't like what she saw her son becoming. Deep down, she knew that he would know that she would always be there for him, and that she could never hate him. He was her little boy, and she had missed him so much. Lief was pouring more gin for him in the hopes that it would ease him. Min felt bad for what she had done to Barda, and as he looked up their eyes met. And he knew that she hadn't truly meant to hurt him. That was enough for him. He took the gin from Lief with a faint smile.

"I'll work something out." He said quietly. "I can't kill Doom. He's my friend. My friend." Min smiled and walked over to him.

"That's my boy." She wiped the tears from his face and swept his fringe out of his eyes. "You're clever, you'll know what to do." She stood up and turned to face Todd and Lovett. "And as for you," she pointed at Todd, who looked surprised, "don't go telling my boy to kill people, you hear? I don't care what's in your head, but you keep it out of his! Understand?" Todd could only nod. "Good. I'll be back in a moment, sweetheart." She murmured to Barda, and left the room. The moment she was gone, Todd let out the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding.

_**I think that's the first time I've been scared of a woman.**_

"That's my mother for you." Barda laughed. "She has that affect on people."

_Nobody 'arms her lad, do they?_

Barda shook his head, remembering all the times when he was younger when his mother would actually terrify any bullies that had tried to do him harm. He also remembered the way she'd sniped at his superior officers back when he was a young guard, because they liked to blame their mistakes on the new guards.

"No… nobody does." He smiled.

_**So what are you going to do about the judge? He needs to be dead.**_

"We'll figure something out." Barda shrugged. "But my mother's right. I can't kill him. I don't think I could even if I wanted to."

_**But my revenge…**_

"I swear if you mention your bloody revenge one more time, I'll dig up your corpse and kill you again myself." Barda cut in.

_Ere, I think he means it!_

"I do." Barda muttered, but he smirked. "So… I wonder who the girl is."

_**That's a point, actually. Why is she back? And why are you back, Anthony?**_

Lief sighed. He'd wondered when someone would ask.

"Anthony told me everything. He and Johanna were escaping England, aiming for America. However the ship they were on sank, and many people died. Sadly, he and Johanna were among those who perished." Lief explained, saddened. Todd said nothing, and instead left the room rather abruptly.

_Oh dear… I'll go see if he's okay…_

Mrs Lovett left, too, leaving Barda, Lief and Lindal alone in the room.

"That's sad. All that work to free her from Turpin's grasp and they both lost their lives quite suddenly…" Lindal murmured.

"They married quite soon after they left London. They were planning to move to America and start their family there but… they never made it." Lief went on. "So at least they were happy." Mrs Lovett came back into the room.

_He wants to be left alone…_

"No doubt." Barda sighed. "It's not nice finding out that a family member is dead." He was speaking from experience. He remembered all too well when he'd heard about his mother's death. It hadn't hit him straight away – he'd been distracted with escaping the palace and stumbling to the forge – but the next day, when he was sat alone in the room Sharn and Endon had given him, it had come to him all at once. Sharn had sat with him for hours, trying to soothe him.

And every year it came back to him. And it was Lindal who sat with him now, his dear wife. He looked at her, and smiled. She showed her sadness at the story of what happened to Anthony and Johanna. She would never admit it, but Lindal was actually rather sensitive.

Like me, he thought. How was he going to deal with this judge issue? He couldn't kill Doom. He just couldn't. Doom was his friend.

* * *

Doom settled down in a large, comfortable chair and pondered on his position. He had to dispose of this new barber quickly, before anything happened on his end. But it was going to be difficult. Glock hadn't reported anything suspicious after his visit to them that morning, but he had seemed on edge. Clearly the barber had frightened him. Either that, or _he_ frightened Glock. He didn't see why he would, though. After all, they had been friends, right?

Then again, he had changed a lot since he came here. He glanced up at the ceiling. What was Jasmine doing now? He hadn't wanted to lock her away – she was _his_ daughter! He knew how much she hated being imprisoned anywhere that had four walls and a roof. Yet if he was going to get home, he had to make sure the sailor didn't get to her.

He briefly wondered who the sailor would be. If Jasmine was here, and Glock too, Doom figured that it would be someone else from their world. It would probably be Lief, he concluded with a smile. It seemed logical that Lief would be the boy to rescue Jasmine.

This brought him back around to his original thoughts. Glock had mentioned who the barber was, and the baker that lived in the downstairs.

"So… Lindal and Barda are here too." He murmured to himself. "This is going to be rather difficult." He stood up and paced around the room. "I don't want to lock Barda away. I don't want to have him killed. Lindal would have my ass if I did." His lips quirked into a smile. "Perhaps I can talk this through with him…" He stopped by the window at one end of the room and looked out into London. "No doubt he'll want to go home, too. If we can arrange something, hopefully no one will be killed."

If Doom had known that only moments earlier, Barda had been thinking about how to kill him, perhaps his thoughts may have been slightly different. After all, they both wanted to go home, didn't they?

"I wonder… if one of us gets killed, do we just return home or do we _actually_ die?" Doom sighed. It wouldn't be that simple, would it? If something happened to him here, it was a likely chance that it would happen to him back home.

Glock paused outside the door, listening to Doom speaking his thoughts out loud. He didn't like this new Doom. Harbouring murderous thoughts may have seemed well suited to his character – the man walks around with the name _Doom_ – but he had never been one for mindless violence and killing innocent people. And the moment he'd been told that Barda was his arch nemesis in this crazy story…

He'd always noticed the rivalry between the two men. He'd occasionally been caught in the crossfire, and it wasn't pretty. But their fights – no matter how vicious or bitter – were always resolved. Their rivalry was friendly. They were both leaders – Barda of the Guards, Doom of the Resistance. They were both strong fighters, as had been proven in the Rithmere Games. If Glock was honest, he'd always believed that Barda was still bitter about Doom's win. He knew that if given the chance, Barda would have ordered for a rematch. Doom had tricked him into faltering, and had therefore knocked him down.

But surely they were friends enough to push all that aside? Thinking of ways to kill each other was not something they did a lot, or at all. Barda was good-natured and kind, and so was Doom – though he hid it rather well at the best of times.

But they had both changed. Doom was vicious and cruel. Barda was violent and dangerous. Glock knew it was because of the character they had to fulfil, but… he was worried that when they were finally allowed to return home, they would remain in those characters.

And a murderous Barda wouldn't be good for Deltora.

**End of Book One**

_Author's Note: Well, this is the end of Book One: The Demons Awaken. Book Two: The Tale Of Sweeney Todd will be out tomorrow, with the first installation. Whoever guessed the judge was going to be Doom gets a cookie. I WAS going to have someone like Fallow or someone else evil to be the judge, but I figured it'd make things interesting if it was good ole Jarred. _


	11. Chapter 10: It Begins

**Book Two: The Tale Of Sweeney Todd**

**Chapter 10: It Begins**

Lief wandered the streets of London, searching for Hyde Park. He knew that the Judge's house was somewhere near there, and he was determined to find out about the girl in the window. He needed to know who she was. He looked at the map of London in his hands and scowled. He was certain he'd been going in the right direction, but the street he was on seemed to be nowhere near Hyde Park.

He sighed in frustration and turned around, going back the way he had come. He was angry at himself for getting lost. How many times had he been able to rely on his own sense of direction, as well as a map to guide his way? And yet here he was, roaming London with no clue of where he was going.

It probably didn't help that his mind was full of thoughts about what had occurred. He'd been transported to this strange world, and could not return until he'd successfully rescued 'Johanna' before the Judge could find out. As if to add to it all, he discovers that two of his closest friends are also here to fulfil their own stories, and the very man he has to cheat is another of his close friends.

Knowing his luck, Doom's job would be to make sure 'Johanna' did not escape at all. And if that was the case, Lief was going to have a lot of trouble getting out of London. When Doom protected something, it was hard to get to it.

Lief was about to give up all hope of ever finding the Judge's house on his own, and was deciding to go to Fleet Street and ask Min to take him there, when he turned the corner and saw the house that had been described to him. It certainly was a grand house, and Lief admired its structure for a moment.

And then he saw her.

It was only from a distance, but he could see she was beautiful. He moved closer and took in her features. Her long blonde hair framed a lightly tanned face, highlighting a pair of vibrant green eyes. Something about her face was familiar, but he could not place it anywhere. He moved even closer to her, trying to remember where he could have seen her face before.

* * *

Barda paced back and forth in his parlour, eyes focused out of the large window. A razor was grasped in each hand. He hadn't had any customers that morning, and he was still waiting for Lief to return with news of this new Johanna.

_**I see you're pacing again.**_

"So what if I am?" He growled, refusing to look at Todd sat in the chair.

_**You're turning into me.**_

Barda spun around to glare at him, razors drawn in a second. Todd smirked as he saw the two blades glinting in the light.

_**See.**_

Cursing himself for falling into that trap, Barda folded the razors away again and went back to pacing.

_**Is something wrong?**_

Barda stopped abruptly and turned to frown at Sweeney Todd. Usually the demon barber would poke fun if he was in a foul mood. He'd never actually care to ask what had put him there.

"Alright, what do you want?" He asked him. Sweeney frowned.

_**I don't know what you mean.**_

"You're never nice to me. I have kids, Sweeney. I know that when they want something, they'll be nice in order to get it." Barda narrowed his eyes. "So what do you want?"

_**I think I should be offended. I was just being nice.**_

"You're never nice."

_**Perhaps I wanted to help.**_

"Yeah, good one." Barda laughed harshly. "You just want to make me feel worse."

_**That's not true.**_

"Give it up, Todd. I'm not in the mood." Barda could feel the anger building up and tried to force it down. He didn't want Lindal to see him get angry over something so trivial. It'd just make her worry more. "Get out my chair."

_**Correction. It's **_**my**_** chair.**_

"Not anymore it isn't." Barda scowled. "Move or I'll sit… through you." Sweeney rolled his eyes and got up from the chair, and Barda slumped down into it. He flicked open one of the razors and glared at his reflection. He was getting shadows underneath his eyes.

_**You look terrible.**_

"Gee, thanks." Barda snapped. "Maybe you should look in a fucking mirror." Todd's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't heard Barda swear like that.

_**Calm down.**_

"Go the fuck away." Barda's hand tightened around the razor and fire crept into his eyes. Todd watched this with an eerie smile.

_**You feel it don't you?**_

"Shut up."

_**You feel their need for blood.**_

"Shut UP."

_**Give them their blood, Barda. It only takes a swing…**_

"SHUT UP!" It happened in a flash. Barda felt the searing rush of pain and something warm slithered over his hand. He had leapt to his feet, and in the process, his hand had been sliced open. The crimson liquid dropped to the floor in small droplets, and stained the brutal edge of the razor. The second razor that had been in the cut hand lay on the floor after he had dropped it when he had reared up. Barda lifted his hand and stared at the deep wound. His head was screaming at him to stop the bleeding before something bad happened, but he couldn't move.

_**Beautiful, isn't it?**_

He couldn't speak. He simply nodded. Todd's eerie smile grew into a manic grin. There were footsteps on the stairs outside and Lindal walked in.

"Is everything okay? I heard…" She trailed off when she saw the blood. "Barda! Are you alright? How did…" She stared at the razor in his hand and gasped. "You… you didn't?" She grabbed his injured hand and inspected the wound. "We have to get this cleaned up. Come on."

"No." He whispered. She frowned. "Leave the blood." Her face paled at his words.

"Barda, come on!" Was he losing his mind? "Your mother will fix this up for you, okay?" The mention of his mother had the desired effect, and he seemed to snap out of his trance. He nodded, and let her lead him out of the parlour. Deep inside, she was terrified for him. What was happening to the man she knew?

* * *

Lief was standing on the same side of the street as the house now, staring up at the girl in the window. She seemed to sense his presence on the street, and looked down at him. And then Lief froze. He knew that face! And he knew those eyes.

"Jasmine!" He whispered. At his face, she seemed to gasp, and he knew she had recognized him, too. The doors to the house opened, and Lief jerked his head down to see who it was in the doorway. He held back the gasp of surprise. He had known it would be him… but it was still a shock to see Doom standing with one hand still holding the door open.

"Is there something you want, lad?" He barked. Perhaps Doom hadn't recognized him yet. Lief panicked. He hadn't wanted to be seen. "Why don't you come on in?" Lief knew he shouldn't. He knew that if he did, he'd be threatened and even beaten, but he couldn't stop himself from walking forwards. Perhaps it was because the judge was Doom, and he believed that the man wouldn't harm him once he found out who he was.

"Okay…" Lief walked up the steps and into the grand house. Doom closed the door behind him with a sneer. This was the sailor boy that wanted to take Jasmine away.

"So, what brings you to this part of London?" Doom asked casually. He swept past Glock with a snarl.

"I was… looking for Hyde Park, sir." Lief lied, remembering Anthony's story.

"Oh?" Doom frowned.

"Yes, sir." Lief smiled casually. "It's embarrassing, because I'm a sailor. I shouldn't be getting lost like this."

"A sailor?" Doom murmured. "So… you are practiced in the ways of the world?" Lief swallowed hard. He had expected this. Doom glared at him. He was secretly smiling, however. He had known it was going to be Lief. "Tell me, boy… why were you staring at my ward?" Lief stiffened up. Glock stood in the doorway, watching Doom with unease.

"Sir… I, I meant no harm." Lief whispered. Doom glared and walked over, grabbing Lief by the front of his shirt.

"Keep away from here, you hear me boy? If I see your face on this street, I'll be sure that you'll rue the day you were born." He hissed. Lief was terrified. He knew what Doom was capable of. The next thing he knew, he was being thrown towards the door. Before he hit the floor, someone caught him, and Lief looked up into a face he had thought he'd never see again.

"Glock?" He whispered. Glock nodded once.

"Take him out of here, Glock. Make sure he does not come back." Doom ordered. Glock nodded and hoisted Lief to his feet, before leading him out the back of the house.

"Lief, please, keep away from here." He said the moment they were outside. "I don't know what's going on, but Doom is a changed man. Make sure he does not catch you here. I'll try and get Jasmine out of the house, but please… don't get yourself killed." Lief was surprised. Wasn't the Beadle supposed to be on the judge's side?

"Glock…"

"Go, quickly. Warn Barda." Glock told him, pushing him away from the house. Lief was about to question how Glock knew about Barda when he turned and ran back into the house. Confused and shocked, Lief walked down the alley beside the judge's house. He glanced up at the house and sighed. Jasmine was locked away. It was just terrible. As he stared up at the house, words began to come to him.

"I'll steal you…" He murmured. "Do they think that walls can hide you? Even now I'm at your window…" He sighed again. "I am in the dark beside you." He wished he could get to her. Wished he could set her free. But for the moment, he had to wait. And he had to tell Barda and Lindal that it was Jasmine they had to rescue.

* * *

Barda sat in the living room with his injured hand outstretched while his mother tended to the wound. Lindal had returned from cleaning the blood from the floor of his parlour, and was now sitting opposite him, watching him closely.

"How did you do this, sweetheart? It's so deep!" Min asked calmly, cleaning the deep gash in his palm.

"I was daydreaming. My hand must have slipped." Barda replied casually. He was not going to tell them that he had sliced open his hand in a fit of rage.

"Well, you know not to daydream with a razor in your hand now, don't you?" Barda smiled at his mother. Practical as always, just like himself.

"I guess I do." He winced and held back a gasp of pain as she tightened a bandage over the wound.

"There, all done." She smiled at him. "Now, I better do my rounds, otherwise people will wonder where the beggar woman has gone. I'll come by another time." She let herself out the back way, as she always did, and there was silence in the living room. Finally, Lindal spoke.

"How did you really do it?" She asked him bluntly. Barda frowned.

"I was daydreaming. I told you that." He replied.

"Don't give me that." She stood up quickly. "You might be able to fool your mother, but she hasn't seen what I have. She wasn't up there when you cut your hand. I was."

"Lindal, my hand slipped, that's all there is to it." He stood up, too, and walked over until they were eye-to-eye.

"Then why were you so fascinated with the blood, hmm?" He had no response for that. Instead, he simply scowled and walked out of the room. "Don't become him, Barda!" His steps faltered for a moment before he hurried away. He was about to leave the pie shop and walk up to his parlour when Lief burst through the door. Lindal rushed out to see what had happened and stopped when she saw it was only Lief.

"I have news!" Lief gasped out. "Seen… the girl…" Barda ushered him to a seat and sat down with him, Lindal quickly joining them.

"Who is she?" Lindal asked.

"It's Jasmine." Lief told them.

"What?" They both exclaimed. Lief nodded.

"It's definitely her. I would never mistake that face. She's got blonde hair, though – probably to fit with the part of Johanna." He explained. Barda nodded.

"Yes, that's probably right. After all, my mother certainly wasn't blonde." He murmured.

"So, did you find out anything else?" Lindal inquired. Lief nodded.

"Doom is different. He's more violent and is nasty work. He threatened me, just like Turpin threatened Anthony." Lief sighed. "And Glock… he is nothing like the Beadle from back then. He plans to help me rescue Jasmine from that house. I don't know how, but he told me to stay away so that I'll live through it. I think he's afraid of what Doom will do to me." He looked at Barda. "And he told me to warn you about him."

"No doubt the judge wants his revenge on the barber." Barda muttered. "Well, I don't need the warning. It'll be Doom that needs the warning."

"I thought you were going to find a way around killing him." Lindal hissed.

"I am. But if he tries to kill me, it'll be a matter of self defence." Barda stated. Lindal couldn't believe what she was hearing. He'd definitely changed.

"What happened to your hand?" Lief questioned, spotting the bandage wrapped around Barda's left hand.

"I slipped with the razor." Barda said before Lindal could speak. He shrugged casually. "These things happen when your tools are that sharp."

"Looks like it hurt."

"Yeah, I guess it did." Barda said quietly.

_**But you wouldn't know, because you weren't paying attention.**_

Barda ignored Todd. He didn't feel like arguing with him again, in case that rage came back and he hurt someone else. He wouldn't forgive himself if he turned a razor on Lindal or Lief.

_**Turning a razor on your own wife? Tch. That's not very nice.**_

He wanted to snap back a response, but held it back. But it was so tempting to remind him that he had _killed_ his wife with one of his razors. So tempting. He decided against it. If his bad moods were anything to go by, Todd's would be absolutely vicious. And he did _not_ want to put up with that.

_**I **_**can**_** read your thoughts you know.**_

He sounded angry. Very angry.

_**Thank you for kindly reminding me that I killed my Lucy.**_

Barda watched Todd storm out of the room and laughed bitterly under his breath.

"Serves the bastard right." Before Lief or Lindal could question what he was talking about, Barda left the room.

* * *

_Author's Note: So, here's chapter ten! Sorry for the wait, it was hard to write over these past few days!_


	12. Chapter 11: The Showdown

**Chapter 11: The Showdown**

Barda was pacing again. Back and forth, back and forth. He hadn't been able to sleep last night, and so he'd spent the dark hours up in his parlour so as not to disturb Lindal. His endless pacing, however, _had_ disturbed her. It was the early morning now, and he knew that in a few moments, Lindal would come and find him and question why he hadn't been beside her all night.

Sure enough, she came up to the parlour and swung open the door.

"Here you are!" She exclaimed. "How long have you been up here?"

"All night." He replied. He had stopped pacing when she had come into the room and now he stood looking out of the window. "Couldn't sleep." She sighed. She'd known he'd been here all night, but she didn't want him to know that he'd kept her awake with his pacing. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed again.

"I was thinking we could maybe go down to the market today." She said to him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" He asked bluntly.

"Well…" She didn't really have an answer for him. "I thought… it would be nice. You know… to get out for a while." He studied her and realized she was saying whatever came to her head. He knew she did this when she wanted to spend time with him without actually saying it, and so he smiled.

"Alright." He picked up a pale grey jacket from the corner and slung it on, before walking towards her. "Why don't we go now?" She smiled and nodded.

_**Where are you going?**_

"To the market." Barda told Sweeney. "Is there a problem with that?"

_**Just watch out for Pirelli.**_

"Oh, yeah. Pirelli might be there." Lindal murmured. "I almost forgot about him."

_How could ye forget about 'im?_

A slight, amused smile was the only response Mrs Lovett received from Lindal. She turned to look at Barda again, and smiled at him.

"Come on, love. Let's go." As they left the parlour, Sweeney Todd gave a brief nod in Mrs Lovett's direction.

_**We'd best go with them. Just in case.**_

_Aye, alright love._

* * *

Fleet market was as busy as always, the sellers shouting their wares out to anybody that would listen. Barda and Lindal walked briskly through the crowds, ignoring the strange looks they knew they were acquiring. Some paces behind them, Sweeney and Lovett followed. Sweeney set eyes on a familiar stand and smirked menacingly.

_**There it is. Pirelli's stand.**_

Barda turned his head slowly and his eyes met the dark gaze of Sweeney Todd. He'd known that the demon barber would have followed them out here, and it was no surprise that Mrs Lovett was standing at his side.

"They've followed us here." He murmured to Lindal, turning away from the sight. She shrugged carelessly.

"So what? Can't do any harm, can they?" She smirked, and he smiled back. He had been hoping for some time away from Todd, especially after angering him the day before. That had been one of the reasons for his insomnia last night – Todd's never-ending bad mood. Still, Lindal was right. It wasn't as though anybody else could see them. He sent one last glare in Todd's direction before turning back to face the stand in front of them. He let his gaze wander over the other people near the stand, and caught sight of Glock's familiar face.

"The Beadle is here, too." He murmured to Lindal, who glanced over at him.

"No surprise." If she wanted to say more, she couldn't, because all attention was drawn to the stand as a young boy stepped out from the curtained off area. He was dressed in rough, dirty clothes, and wore a cap on his head, from which sprouted strands of short blonde hair.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention pur-lease?" He called out into the crowd. A few steps away, Sweeney Todd rolled his eyes.

_**Nice to know that some things will never change.**_

"Do you wake every morning in shame and despair to discover your pillow is covered with hair, what ought not to be there?" The boy continued. "Well ladies and gentlemen, from now on you can waken with ease, you need never again have a worry or care I will show you a miracle marvellous rare." The boy leant forward to gaze at the crowd gathered and smiled lightly. "Gentlemen you are about to see something what rose from the dead…" He stepped back and lifted a hand to his hat. "On the top of my head!" He removed the cap and long blonde hair cascaded down over his shoulders, and the crowd chuckled. Barda was not impressed. He knew it was all fake.

"I know where this is going." He muttered to Lindal as the boy walked over to a crate of bottles filled with a yellow liquid.

"T'was Pirelli's Miracle Elixir, that's what did the trick sir, true sir true. Was it quick, sir? Did it in a tick sir! Just like an elixir ought to do." He walked over to a man with a balding head and knelt down on the platform. "How bout a bottle mister? Only costs a penny guaranteed!" He sprinkled some of the liquid onto the man's head. "Does Pirelli's stimulate the growth sir? You can have my oath sir, t'is unique. Rub a minute, stimulatin' innit? Soon you'll have to thin it once a week!" Barda knew this was the time to speak up.

"Pardon me ma'am, what's that awful stench?" He asked Lindal.

"Are we standing near an open trench?" She asked in reply. She turned to the man on her other side. "Pardon me sir, what's that awful stench?"

"Must be standing near an open trench." Barda said at the same time. The boy looked a little nervous, but he threw the bottle out into the crowd anyway.

"Buy Pirelli's Miracle Elixir, anything what's slick sir, soon sprouts curls. Try Pirelli's, when they see how thick sir, you can have your pick sir, of the girls!" He smiled at a woman in the front row. "Wanna buy a bottle, missus?" Barda had by now been passed the bottle of yellow liquid and he opened it to inspect it.

"What is this?" He asked.

"What is this?" Lindal echoed.

"Smells like piss." He told her. The boy frowned at them.

"Smells like – eugh!"

"Looks like piss." He noted. Lindal turned to the man beside her.

"I wouldn't touch it if I was you sir." She told him.

"This is piss, piss with ink." Barda concluded, putting the lid back on the bottle. The boy was more than a little nervous now.

"Let Pirelli's activate your roots sir!" He tried to gain back the trust of the audience, but Barda wasn't having it.

"Keep it off your boots, sir, eats right through!"

"Yes get Pirelli's, use a bottle of it, ladies seem to love it-,"

"Flies do too." Lindal remarked, causing the crowd to laugh. The sound of someone walking up steps alerted the boy, and he scampered off the platform as a tall man in a ridiculous blue outfit stepped out from the curtained off area. He did not seem impressed, at all.

"I am Ranesho Pirelli, the king of the barbers, the barber of kings." He announced. Barda and Lindal exchanged looks – Ranesh was the barber Barda had to beat. "I wish to know who has the nerve to say my elixir is piss! Who says this?" With a smirk at Lindal, Barda cleared his throat.

"I do." He said clearly. "I am Mr Sweeney Barda, of Fleet Street." He walked forward to the front of the crowd and gazed up at Ranesh. "I have opened up a bottle of Pirelli's Elixir, and I say to you, it is nothing but an arrant fraud, concocted from piss and ink. Furthermore, signor, I have serviced no kings, yet I wager that I can shave a cheek with ten times more dexterity than any street mountebank." Ranesh was fuming with anger. But Barda wasn't finished. He pulled out two razors and held them up. "Do you see these razors?" He asked the crowd. "I lay them against five pounds." He said to Ranesh. "You are no match, sir. Either except my challenge, or reveal yourself as a sham." Ranesh inspected the razors before standing up straight and smirking.

"You hear this, foolish man? Now, please, you will see how he will regret his folly!" He announced, throwing off his cape. "Josef!" He called out, and the young boy reappeared instantly. Barda smirked and turned to the crowd.

"Who's for a free shave?" He asked. He pointed at two of the men closest to him, and allowed Lindal to remove his jacket and hand him his shaving equipment. A chair was placed on the platform, and a young man sat down in it, ready. Josef had already positioned Pirelli's chair, and another, older man sat down in it. Barda walked up the steps onto the platform, glancing at Sweeney Todd as he did so.

_**Don't forget the Beadle.**_

"Will Beadle Glock be the judge?" Barda asked slyly. Glock was surprised to have been noticed, but covered it up quickly.

"Glad, as always, to oblige my friends and neighbours." He walked up to stand beside the platform and waited while the sheets were spread over the two men waiting to be shaved. "Ready?" He asked Barda and Ranesh.

"Ready!" Ranesh announced boldly. Barda simply nodded.

"The fastest, smoothest shave is the winner!" Glock told the crowd, before blowing a whistle for them to start. Ranesh, as predicted, started singing while he worked.

"Now signorine, signori we mix the lather, but first you gather around! Signorine, signori, you looking a man who have had the glory to shave the Pope! Mr Sweeney, whoever, I beg your pardon; you'll probably say it was only a cardinal – nope! It was the Pope!" Ranesh had finished lathering the man's face by now, but Barda hadn't even started. He was trusting Sweeney's skill to win this challenge.

_**I won before. We'll win again.**_

"To shave the face, to cut the hair… require the grace, require the flare…" Ranesh opened up his razor, Josef preparing to clean it off for him when needed. "For if you slip, you nick the skin, you clip the chin; you rip the lip a bit beyond repair." He held out the razor for Josef to clean. "To shave the face, or even a part, without it smart, require the heart! Not just the flash, it take panache, it take the passion for the art." Now Barda began to prepare the lather. "To shave the face, to trim the beard, to make the bristle, clean like a whistle… this is from early infancy the talent give to me, by God…" Barda had lathered up the man's face now, and he picked up his razor, ready. "It take the skill, it take the brains, it take the will to take the pains, it take the pace, it take the grace…" As Ranesh carried that last note, Barda started the shave. And it was Sweeney's immense skill that made sure he had finished the shave by the time Ranesh had finished the note. He stood back, and the man in his chair sat there stunned at how quickly he had been shaved.

"The winner… is Barda!" Glock announced to the crowd. Ranesh glared at him from across the other side of the platform. He walked over to Barda and stood there for a moment.

"Sir, I bow to a skill far greater than my own." Barda wasn't interested in what he had to say.

"The five pounds." He muttered, holding out his hand. Ranesh sighed and handed him the money.

"May the good lord smile on you." He murmured. "Until we meet again." He turned to Josef and belted him across the face, swearing at him in Italian. "Stupid boy." He muttered to the crowd nervously. Barda picked up his equipment and met Lindal at the bottom of the platform.

"That's not like Ranesh to treat a boy like that." She muttered quietly.

"He called him Josef." Barda replied darkly. "I reckon that's his little boy." Lindal gasped slightly. "I know. Something isn't right about this place. It's changing people." She opened her mouth to tell him that he'd changed, too, but before she could, a man had walked up to them.

"You say your establishment is in Fleet Street?" He asked. Barda nodded. "That wouldn't be the Demon Barber's parlour, would it?"

"It certainly is. Sweeney Barda's Tonsorial Parlour, above my meat pie emporium in Fleet Street." Lindal cut in before Barda could say anything.

"I may have to come and visit you sometime." The man said with a smile. Barda smirked.

"You will be welcome, sir, and I can guarantee the closest shave you will ever get." He said quietly. The man missed the underlining meaning, but Lindal didn't, and she put a forceful hand on Barda's arm.

"Come on love." She said firmly, starting to lead him away. Barda kept his eyes on the man for a while before giving in and walking away with Lindal. "What will happen to Ranesh and Josef, do you think?" She asked him as they made their way back to Fleet Street.

"I have no idea." He replied. "I'm going to assume that Pirelli wanted to show up Todd, or perhaps reveal who he is to someone of power. I'm guessing he doesn't want to be killed again, so I doubt he'll be turning up at the parlour anytime soon. Maybe they'll be sent home now that he's been defeated."

"Maybe." She sighed. "That poor boy. Why is Ranesh treating him so badly?"

"To fit the role, perhaps? Because if he doesn't, his ambitions won't be met and he won't be sent home? There could be many reasons why, Lindal." Barda shrugged.

"Or maybe he's gotten confused between Ranesh and Ranesho. Maybe he's changed into the character of Pirelli." Lindal suggested, glancing sideways at him. Barda ignored the subtle hints about his own apparent change.

"Perhaps." Was all he said.

"In any case, we'll have to think of a plan in case he _does_ show up." She went on, slowly slipping into her own character of Mrs Lovett. "I mean, we can't let him escape us if he does, and killing him is certainly out of the question…"

_**She really is becoming Mrs Lovett. All that constant chatter.**_

_I don't appreciate that, Mr T._

_**I don't care what you appreciate, woman.**_

"At least we don't argue like they do." Barda said with a smile.

_**You argue pretty well with me.**_

"That's because I don't like you." He shot back easily.

_Christy, they're like an old married couple._

_**Quiet, woman, or I'll…**_

_You'll what? Kill me? Already done that, love._

"She's got a point." Lindal laughed.

…

"Oh, oh… Sweeney has been left speechless! Note this down, quick!" Barda grinned. "Mrs Lovett outdoes Sweeney Todd. A moment to remember."

_**Oh shut up.**_

"You're losing your touch, Todd." Barda smirked.

_**Losing my touch? Whose skill won that challenge, hmm?**_

"Ah, but who is re-writing history for you? Without me, you'd be rotting away in Hell right now."

_**I lived through Hell for fifteen years, and I managed to get out of it just fine.**_

"Yeah, then went and got yourself killed – by a little boy, too."

_**Quiet. I let him kill me. I wanted to die. My Lucy was dead, Johanna out of my reach. I had nothing left to live for.**_

"Stop with the angst, Todd. Live a little." Barda laughed at the irony of his statement.

_**We'll see who needs who when Pirelli walks into that parlour. Just you wait, Sweeney Barda. You'll regret your harsh words when it comes to a time when you need me most.**_

* * *

_Author's Note: What could Sweeney possibly mean "when you need me most"? Find out in further chapters! Sorry for the long wait, I've had a bad case of Writers Block. Horrible thing, that. But now I am back with another chapter of The Demons of 186!_


End file.
